Else
by jen3
Summary: Harry, Ron, and Hermione finish up at Hogwarts, move on to Wizard University, get their little hearts toyed with, face Voldemort, and loads of other good stuff. (first fic, keep that in mind :)
1. Prologue and Chapter 1

A/N: Hi, this is my first fic and I hope that you all like it. It's pretty long, and I'm posting it as it is beta read. I think the rest is self-explanatory. Thanks for reading :) And thanks to Lupin, Sonja, and Flourish for either beta reading or trying to beta read, your efforts are much appreciated.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Else

****

Prologue

A storm was coming. Black clouds had formed overhead, a cold wind was blowing, and thunder sounded across the grounds at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Before long, lighting would be flashing and rain would be pouring down. Anyone with any sense had long since gone inside; however, the storm brewing on the ground was far worse than the one threatening to attack overhead.

Despite the cold, beads of sweat had formed and were dripping down the face of one Harry Potter, who wished that they would disappear; they were distracting him from the task at hand. He tried to ignore the fact that failure at this task would most likely result in his prompt and green-lit demise; he also tried to ignore the fact that his "task" was now laughing at him, quite loudly in fact. 

"So, Potter…All alone now, aren't you? Where are your friends?" the ominously thin figure asked as he gestured toward Ron and Hermione, who were turning cartwheels and singing an old Muggle song behind him, their faces sometimes twisting in an effort to repel the curse. "Where are your teachers?" he questioned, motioning toward the ground where Professor Sprout lay face down in the blowing grass. "And where, most importantly," he added, almost as an afterthought, "is your precious Dumbledore?" He laughed again, causing Harry to shiver involuntarily.

Harry wanted to yell at him; in fact, he wanted to go straight up to him and scream in his face. He wanted to watch the small flecks of spit fly from his mouth and rest on his foe's nose, and witness the look of surprised horror that would reside in his eyes as he realized the certainty of his coming doom by way of...Avada Kedavra? He didn't know if he was powerful enough; no one was actually taught that curse at Hogwarts. He quickly struck thoughts of immediate retaliation from his mind; that's what he wanted, Harry knew, and if he obliged him it would be a fatal mistake. He also knew that he should be using this as time to anticipate and think rather than wallow in fear and self-pity. 

"Well, boy," Voldemort hissed, "do you know where your headmaster is?" 

Harry racked his brain for something he could possibly do to come out of this situation with a beating heart. He knew it was a long shot, but it was also his only chance...

"Perhaps I should show you," Voldemort sneered, waving his hand and creating a misty view of Dumbledore, in his nightclothes, lying on his bed with open, empty eyes. Harry continued to try to think, and hope. The sweat on his face increased enough that his glasses began to slide down his nose, and Voldemort regarded this with a sinister smirk. Harry tried to focus beyond Voldemort, but when he did he only saw Ron and Hermione cartwheeling in and out of his view, singing "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds."

"You, my boy," Voldemort chuckled, then suddenly becoming serious continued, "are out of time!"

Harry knew what was coming; he blindly aimed his wand at Voldemort, shouted, "_Defixus Retexo_!" and rolled out of the way, the death curse missing his head by millimeters. Praying his friends knew what to do, he stood up, pointed his wand, and heard his voice along with two others (to his immense relief) scream "_AVADA KEDAVRA_!" After that, the only things Harry remembered were feeling a cold jolt fly into his body, feeling it leave as soon as it had come, and watching his world turn black.

****

Chapter 1

Harry woke hours later with a scream, which he followed closely with a yelp due to the fact that he had no idea where he was. The room he was in was pitch black, his pulse was racing, he had the strange and terrible feeling that he was going to die… Suddenly, a candle illuminated in what the light quickly revealed to be a doorway, and he was greeted by the welcome sight of Madam Pomfrey shushing him and hurrying toward his bed.

"Get back to sleep," she whispered soothingly as she attempted to make him put his head back to his pillow.

"No! I need—I..." Harry trailed off as he realized that he didn't know exactly what he needed to do. He knew something urgent had been pressing on his mind when he had last been conscious, but what... and then it all came flooding back to him. He jumped out of bed, disregarding the fact that his robes had been removed (for medical reasons, of course) and Madam Pomfrey's look of panic, and raced out into the waiting room where he encountered the Weasleys, minus Ron and Bill (and Charlie, of course), who were sitting nervously and waiting for some word on the recovery of Ron and his friends. Harry paused at the sight of them and with great relief noted that none of them were crying. In fact, they didn't look distressed at all. 

As Mrs. Weasley stared at him with tears of joy appearing in her eyes, he deduced that Ron, at least, had survived.

"What... what happened?" he managed to stammer. 

Mrs. Weasley was clearly taken aback and began to sob, squeezing out, "Harry darling, it's all over!" before she took the plunge into unintelligibility. Mr. Weasley immediately began to comfort his wife, and an exasperated Fred took over.

"Well, Harry old boy," he began wryly, but was obviously very pleased just the same. "You seem to have done it. Voldemort," he said, clearly emphasizing the last word and surprising Harry, "is gone."

"We did it?" Harry asked, astounded and almost speechless. "We're all alive?"

"Yes. Somehow Hermione and Ron were injured just the same as you were, but Professor Sprout..." George said, finishing for his brother and looking suddenly put out at the mention of the death. 

No one said anything for an uneasy moment.

"Anyway, they found you three passed out near the Forbidden Forest," Fred finally spoke up, "and they brought you in here. They called us and Hermione's parents, who should be here very short-"

"WHERE IS SHE?!" a frantic looking man yelled as he bolted into the waiting room, followed closely by a woman in a similar state.

"-ly," Fred said, looking upon the scene with surprise as Percy waltzed over to explain the situation to Hermione's parents.

"And?" Harry asked, thinking that there should somehow be more to the story than what he had just heard.

"And now you're standing in front of us putting on a show in your boxers, which I'm sure Ginny finds very entertaining," George finished with a smirk on his face. Ginny turned the color of her hair and looked away very quickly with a smile on her face, but thankfully (for her) Harry didn't notice this due to the fact that he had looked down and realized that George was indeed telling the truth. Embarrassed, he excused himself from the amusement of the Weasley clan (the Grangers were far too concerned with the welfare of their daughter to know of anything but their desire to see her) and went back to face the wrath of Madame Pomfrey in order to retrieve his robes. 

She was surprisingly agreeable, even giving him a hug and thanking him before she gave him his clothing. As he pulled the robes over his head, he had a shocking thought: Dumbledore. What had happened to Dumbledore? He went cold when he remembered how he had last seen him, with his eyes open in wordless horror—

"Harry?" Madam Pomfrey called to him, noticing that he had had his robes halfway over his head for over half a minute. Harry quickly clothed himself.

"Is Professor Dumbledore—" He was interrupted by the opening of the door from the waiting area.

"Did I hear my name?" Professor Dumbledore asked, sticking his head into the room. Harry sighed in relief. "Surprised to see me, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, looking a little more weary and apprehensive than usual, but still retaining an air of cheerfulness. 

Harry was stunned and didn't answer; too much was happening at once.

"I do hope you're able to talk. I am anxious to hear what has happened... I hope you don't mind, Poppy?" Madame Pomfrey grumbled something about not being allowed to give students proper care, but allowed him to go with Dumbledore into the waiting room. The Grangers and the Weasleys were absent, as they had finally been allowed to sit by their respective children while they slept.

"Well Harry, if you don't mind," said Dumbledore, "Begin from the beginning."

Dumbledore sat down; Harry watched, took a deep breath, and obeyed his headmaster.

"Professor Sprout was talking to Professor Sinistra," Harry began. "We were in the Great Hall eating lunch when Professor Sprout called me over. She told me that since I did poorly on the last herbology test I could get extra credit if I helped her with finding some plants in the Forbidden Forest. I kind of needed the points so I agreed, and when the time came to leave, Ron and Hermione offered to go as well, and I figured that it would help her since there would be more of us, so we went." 

Harry paused, still trying to absorb everything that was happening and had happened earlier that evening. Dumbledore nodded him on. 

"Wh-when Ron and Hermione and I got there, we were just in time to see Professor Sprout fall... Hermione screamed and Ron grabbed her and began to run; it was obvious something was wrong... I heard '_Imperio_' from somewhere, and Ron and Hermione suddenly began to turn cartwheels and sing. I tried to help Professor Sprout, but it was obviously too late. He began to laugh when he saw me trying to revive her, trying to make her live... he showed himself soon after, and then he waited until I stood up, then he began to taunt me..."

Harry told the rest of his story without the nervous stammer he had begun with.

"...It was probably a lucky break that it worked, and that our spells missed each other, though I think Voldemort accounted for this as well."

"Well, Harry, what did you do?" Dumbledore asked, anxious to learn how a 17-year-old underage wizard had defeated the most evil and potentially powerful wizard in the world.

"_Defixus Retexo_," Harry said. "I remembered hearing the spell sometime in 5th year. We never learned it here, I don't think."

"No, only ministry wizards are specifically taught it. It is extremely difficult, especially to actually cause the intended spell to be fully reversed. Despite the complication this is possible in most cases, excluding, of course, the death curse."

Harry nodded.

"Well, what happened from there?" Dumbledore asked again.

"It worked, probably because there wasn't any other option, and Ron and Hermione were released from the curse and thankfully knew what to do. We all said the death curse and threw ourselves into it at the same time. All I remember is feeling like something jolted me back, and then a sudden pain."

"You say you felt something enter your body?"

"Something like that, yes," Harry said, confused. Dumbledore's weary and apprehensive look suddenly became more final. "What's wrong, sir?" Harry asked.

"I suspected this. He's not gone, Harry." He stood and began to pace

Harry felt a look of fear form on his face.

"His soul is still alive...I'll have to inform the ministry, of course... hopefully they'll do something about it this time."

"But..." Harry was stunned. He had just failed at killing his arch nemesis a second time. Dumbledore immediately sensed his disappointment and laid a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, Harry," Dumbledore consoled. "You could not possibly have killed him. You have saved Hogwarts and the lives of your friends and probably many students, and once again shown courage and responsibility beyond your years. Voldemort is not gone, but he is powerless, and I'm sure that this time the ministry will take the appropriate actions to find him."

"Professor Sprout died, sir... I couldn't stop it, I tried-"

"Mr. Potter, no one blames you for that." Professor Dumbledore looked kindly upon Harry, who had buried his head in his hands. "Voldemort, as you know very well, takes killing people as a sport. He uses it to lure, to frighten, and show his power. You have done nothing wrong, Harry." Harry still kept his head down, but he took the comments to heart.

"Sir, why did you say it was impossible, killing Voldemort?"

"Harry," said Dumbledore sternly but with eyes like stars, "that is a question for another time."

"Everything is!" Harry suddenly exclaimed, frustrated. "My parents, my childhood, my everything! I'm 17 years old! When am I going to know, when I'm 30? What is-"

"Well," interjected Dumbledore, obviously amused, "I was thinking tomorrow, since you are obviously very tired, despite your bravado."

"Oh," Harry squeaked, embarrassed.

"If you would kindly go to bed and get some rest now, I will see you in my office at 10:00 tomorrow morning. The password is 'chocolate orange.'"

"Okay."

"Now, goodnight Mr. Potter."

"Goodnight, sir."

Harry watched as his headmaster left the waiting room, then he put himself back into the custody of Madame Pomfrey and went to sleep.

***

Harry woke at 8:30 the next morning, checked to see that his robes had not been forcibly removed again (they hadn't), put his glasses on, and went to try and find Ron and Hermione. He found Hermione first; she was in the room next to his (Madame Pomfrey had given them the three private rooms, thinking that they deserved it). Her parents had fallen asleep in chairs next to her bed, and she was quietly studying for finals. Harry stood silently in the doorway, watching her, until she looked up and noticed him.

"Harry!" she whispered happily, jumping out of bed and giving him a hug that he gratefully returned.

"Do you know if Ron's awake yet?" Harry asked quietly.

"He's not, I just went next door and checked," Hermione said. "That was brilliant yesterday, Harry, I'm so proud of you that I could kiss you! But if I did I'm afraid that would betray some more-than-platonic feelings that I just do not have for you, so I won't. You do understand?"

"Sure," Harry grinned, and hugged her again. "I'm glad you and Ron reacted the way I prayed you two would yesterday."

"Yes, that was a big risk. But it's over now," Hermione and Harry broke their embrace, left the door open and sat on a nearby bed in the main infirmary. 

"Hermione," Harry said seriously, "There's something you should know. Voldemort—"

"Isn't dead?" Hermione finished for him.

"Wait, how did you know?"

"He must have used some spell to prevent his soul from being killed. I'm sure you noticed the cold feeling after his body was destroyed?" Harry nodded. "That is what happens when someone performs the extremely complicated immortality incantation… only one known wizard accomplished this, back in the 7th century, known only as Nabiha. She was Middle Eastern, very remote and private, and very powerful. When the body dies it disappears, and the soul is set free in a burst of energy with only one purpose, which is to find a way to live again. There is only one way that the person can truly be killed, and that's if they kill themselves. Which, let's face it, won't happen to Voldemort anytime soon."

Harry whistled as he looked at her with frightened bewilderment. "Someone's been making use of that unlimited pass to use the restricted section, eh?"

"Well, N.E.W.Ts are this week, and I want to be prepared." Harry just shook his head. So much for Dumbledore's upcoming description of events.

Hermione suddenly became quite serious. "So," she continued, "Professor Sprout is…" Harry nodded. "And," her voice began to waver and her gaze trailed to the floor, "Dumbledore?"

"No," Harry shook his head, and Hermione closed her eyes in relief.

"Then Voldemort was lying?" she asked, opening her eyes and looking at Harry. "Not his usual style, if I may say so."

"Well, Dumbledore was going to talk to me in about," Harry looked at his watch, "an hour and 15 minutes. Maybe you can come up too, I bet he would let you in as well. You have just as much of a right to know about everything that happened as I do, though you seem to have a pretty good handle on it. Maybe you could ask him that question"

Hermione smugly agreed with him, and put her studying aside (gasp!) so they could discuss things. 

"I got my letter this morning, Harry," Hermione said nervously.

"Well?!" Harry asked with a smile.

"I didn't open it yet, I'm too nervous."

Harry glared in exasperation. "Hermione, if you don't get into Wizard University then no living wizard could. Ron and I both got in, and you're smarter than the two of us put together. Now open the damn envelope before I do it for you."

Hermione made a face and pulled it out of her robes, her hands shaking slightly, and delicately began to tear the seal on the envelope. Harry grabbed the letter from her and, ignoring her protests, ripped the envelope open and began to read. As she saw a look of severe disappointment cross his face, Hermione's eyes opened wide along with her mouth, and her lip began to shake.

"Harry?" He put on a tight smile, leaving his eyes with their sorrowful expression.

"I'm sorry, Hermione…" She let out a gasp and snatched the letter from him, immediately devouring it with her eyes. "You only got a full merit scholarship and are only the most qualified wizard who applied this year—"

"YOU PRAT!" she yelled, giving him a powerful smack on the side and waking her parents up with her yell. After he sat back up, she hugged him, then ran over to where her parents were still sitting, told them the news, and did the same to them. Ron chose this moment to appear at his door, and was also promptly assaulted by Hermione. 

"Wha—"

"I GOT INTO WIZARD UNIVERSITY!"

"Yeah? I did too, can't be that hard," he muttered, tentatively returning the hug, as though if he touched her the wrong way she would break. She chose to ignore his comment. 

"I GOT A FULL SCHOLARSHIP!"

"Wow!" Ron exclaimed, serious this time. She released him, and he continued to smile.

"Ron, you're awake," said Harry, relieved that his best friend was unhurt.

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed. The two ran over to each other with big and relieved smiles on their faces, shook hands earnestly, and pulled into a quick, appropriate, manly hug.

"Glad you're all right," Ron grinned.

"Likewise," Harry noted.

They both stood staring at each other grinning like idiots and shaking their heads occasionally for about a minute.

"Oh, I'm so glad we're all going to school together," Hermione finally put in, placing her hands on each of their shoulders.

"Oh, I can't resist, Group Hug!" Ron cried mockingly, pulling both Hermione and Harry into his arms. "Mr. and Mrs. Granger, you're welcome to join in if you want," he called. They politely declined.

"Geroff," Harry finally declared, even though he still had a big gaping grin on his face. "Hermione," he muttered as he saw the Grangers giving their little group rather interestingly contorted looks, "You want some time with your parents?"

"Oh!" she gasped, just remembering them, "Yes, if you two could just…"

"Okay. We'll fetch you in an hour to go to Dumbledore's," Harry finished, pushing Ron further into the main infirmary. Ron just looked at Harry with a strange expression on his face.

"What is it?" Harry finally asked, slightly irritated.

"You're alive, I'm alive, Hermione's—"

"Dead?" Harry interrupted.

"No, just weird," Ron finished, smiling. "I just can't believe we came out of that, that we killed Volde…Harry?" Harry had suddenly started to look uneasy.

"Voldemort didn't die, Ron."

"Oh… but… he…"

"What do you remember right after we defeated him?"

"I felt almost like something flew inside me, I was jolted back and… oh."

"Yeah."

There was a small pause.

"DAMMIT!" Ron yelled as he suddenly punched the stone wall. "He—he—augh!" He began to rub his now injured and slightly bleeding fist and sat on a bed. "I thought I… we…"

Harry sat next to his grieving friend, who was now holding his face in his hands.

"Ron, you did more than Charlie ever could have wanted you to do," Harry said softly, not expecting a response and not getting one.

He recalled the day less than a year earlier, when Hermione had turned white while reading _The Daily Prophet._ Ron had asked what was wrong and looked over her shoulder to read the headline "DRAGON BREEDERS ATTACKED BY DEATH EATERS." He had gasped and read over the article to learn that Voldemort's supporters had attempted to apprehend some dragons from a dragon breeding center in Romania; some wizards tried to resist, and they were promptly made an example of and killed. Charlie Weasley had been among the "examples." Ron had put the paper down and stared blankly at his food, not even noticing that Malfoy had strolled over. He'd had intentions to taunt Ron about how the size of his family had decreased and therefore the world was a better place, but he had gone no further than to say, "So, Weasel, another one bites the dust, eh?" when Ron launched himself clear over the breakfast table and upon Draco. Neither Harry nor Hermione tried to stop the brawl that ensued and by the time a teacher (Snape, as luck would have it) separated them, Malfoy had been issued a black eye, a broken nose, a split lip, and a missing tooth. Ron had stood silently as Snape issued him two weeks of detention to be served digging out fly eyes for potions classes and 50 points from Gryffindor (Malfoy received 5 points from Slytherin and a warning), and ran up to his dorm immediately after Snape had finished. 

Hermione had then done something that had given Harry a new sense of admiration for her: she grabbed the newspaper and ran after Snape. From where Harry was sitting he saw her stop him, hand him the paper, converse with him for a moment (she said something that left a look of shock on his face), and walk out of the Great Hall leaving Harry alone. The detention and lost points were all revoked later that day.

Neither Ron nor Hermione had gone to any classes that morning, and during lunch when Harry went to check on Ron, he saw him through the crack in the curtains on Ron's four-poster bawling silently into the arms of Hermione. Harry hadn't interrupted them. He waited until Hermione left the boys' dorm in the early evening, to retrieve both his and her missed homework, before trying to console his friend. He had stopped crying by that time, and was sitting wordlessly on the edge of his bed holding a letter. After some sparse conversation, Harry learned that Ron was to be excused from school for the next week so he could be home with his family. He hadn't known what to do, so he just sat there with him until everyone else came up to go to bed. Anything to do with Charlie had received little to no discussion since then.

Ron did not say anything until Harry nudged him to tell him that they were going to have to go talk to Dumbledore.

"What?" Ron's face fell even further as he made a connection. "Isn't he dead?"

"Nope, not since last night, or very early this morning I mean," Harry answered, trying to remember what time he and Dumbledore had last talked.

"But…"

"He's probably going to explain all of that when we talk to him. It was originally only supposed to be me, but he'll probably let you and Hermione in as well."

"Okay, I'll go get Hermione and you can get a head start to Dumbledore's office."

"Good idea, you know where it is?"

"Yes, I've been there a few times, you know," he said, managing to crack a small smile as he went into the room adjacent to where they were sitting. 

Harry pulled himself up and began the walk to the office of his headmaster, gratefully noting that he could see no one in the hallway.

If you want to make my day, please review :) 


	2. Chapter 2 and Chapter 3

A/N: Hi, thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the first part of this, you're all very cool people :) 

Disclaimer: Nothing that you recognize is mine. Now, on with the story.

****

Chapter 2

"Chocolate Orange," Harry said as he approached the gargoyle. He watched it open, stood on the moving stairs until they reached the door at the top, and knocked; Professor Dumbledore opened it almost immediately.

"Come right in, Harry. I've arranged for breakfast to be served in my office for you and your friends - I assume they are planning on being in attendance?" 

"Well, yes, I was just going to ask you."

"Shall we go down and retrieve them, then?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, and both he and Dumbledore rode the stairs together.

When they reached the bottom, an expectant Ron and Hermione were just rounding the corner.

"Shall we?" offered Dumbledore, and the four were carried up the stairs (yet again for Harry, who was a little queasy by the time they reached the top). They seated themselves around the table in the office, and at Dumbledore's urging helped themselves to breakfast. When they were finished he began to speak.

"First, I would like to congratulate the three of you. I am assuming you know that Voldemort has not been completely killed; however, he has been reduced to a state as weak as the time directly following his first attempt at killing Harry. You three have done more than any wizards your age that I have heard of, and you all have the right to feel very proud and capable right now."

Harry looked at Ron and knew that his friend did not. He kicked him silently under the table and pretended he didn't notice the venomous look that Ron gave him afterwards.

"When Voldemort was at the peak of his original reign of terror, he performed a very ancient, very powerful, and very difficult spell that would enable him to survive even after his body was exterminated. The only way he can truly die is if his death is self-administered, that is, if he kills himself. That, as you know, is not very likely to occur in the near future."

"That doesn't change the fact that we failed," Ron muttered. Hermione put her hand on his, and this seemed to shush him for the time being. 

"When Voldemort showed you dead," Harry began, "I mean, how did you…?"

"Ah yes. He wasn't lying. It was our dear Professor Sprout actually; the wards around the immediate vicinity of the castle are too strong for even Voldemort to penetrate on his own."

"But Professor," Hermione interrupted with a confused look on her face, "how did you survive? No one except for Harry, not even the most powerful wizard, has survived the death curse."

"I will tell you, Ms. Granger, that I did not do it on my own. A new, very new charm, still in its experimental stages, is in development to repel and reflect the death curse. I volunteered to test it so that they could monitor the results in the sad case that I should get attacked. They are not actually testing the charm with the curse, as that would be dangerous and probably result in some unnecessary deaths."

"It worked then? That's great!" Hermione said, excited. "This will revolutionize, well, everything!"

"It may in time," said Dumbledore. "It is extremely difficult to perform, and it didn't exactly work as it should. It is true that the curse didn't kill me, but the charm didn't block it completely; I was petrified. Luckily Madame Pomfrey had some antidote for it, so I was revived almost immediately."

"Oh," Hermione said, looking a little disappointed.

"I'm afraid most of the information dealing with the charm is confidential; it could be highly dangerous if it were in the wrong hands, you know," Dumbledore said. "But," he continued, eyes twinkling, "you shouldn't fret just yet, Ms. Granger. I heard you were accepted into Wizard University with a scholarship, and the spell was actually developed by professional researchers who were working along with students. Maybe this is a field that you should consider." 

Hermione looked surprised for a moment, then smiled shyly. "Maybe I will," she happily replied.

"Now, if there aren't any other questions to attend to, I am going to go contact the University and explain the situation to them. And I believe that you three have some preparing to do for the very large party that is being held tonight. There has been precious little to celebrate for the past 3 years, and we're taking advantage of it." 

None of them spoke, so Dumbledore smiled and stood up. " I believe _The Daily Prophet_ is waiting downstairs in the great hall to interview you, if I may warn you. Incidentally, you three are exempt from all exams excluding the N.E.W.T.s, and Gryffindor has been awarded 5,000 points. Have a good day, and I will see you all somewhere in the school I'm sure." He escorted them down the stairs and into the hallway. They watched the gargoyle close behind them and began to walk back to the common room, unnoticed by their peers (who they presumed to be in class).

****

Chapter 3

Harry smiled as he remembered the previous two weeks; despite his N.E.W.T.'s, they had been two of the happiest, most carefree weeks of his life. Hermione, however, had been another story; she hadn't participated in even the first night of partying because she was studying in the library. Harry had barely seen her except in the exam rooms, and she had always had a sort of ghostly look about her and dark circles under her eyes. Now, she was catching up on some much-needed sleep. Ron was cavorting the halls somewhere with Dean and/or Seamus (and probably one or two 4th year girls). Harry was left to pack and ponder his immediate future: his last hellish summer with the Dursleys. 

In a way, he knew it wouldn't be nearly as bad as previous summers; after all, an end would be in sight. Not just an end, as had been the case with previous summers, but _the_ end. He would be 18 on July 31, and the Dursleys would surely be helping him pack his bags (and probably even wait with him by the door on the night of July 30 as he counted down the seconds to midnight, laughing and reminiscing about old times). But first he must endure the months before that day, the months of being tortured by Dudley and Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, the months of hunger and conversation depravation. 

He tried to ignore this, and instead tried to focus on the tiny problem creeping into his mind: where would he stay once the guarantee of a home, albeit a horrid one, ran out? He knew that the Weasleys wouldn't mind allowing him to stay with them, and he even knew that he would enjoy it; the Weasleys were the family he never had. But he also knew he would feel extremely guilty; he was not a child anymore and could stay on his own.

He would ask Ron about it when he got back from doing whatever he was doing, Harry decided; after all, his first summer alone was more than a year away, and that was more than enough time to figure something out. But first, there was another summer with the Dursleys to contend with.

Harry was packing more and more vigorously, hating the Dursleys with increased animosity as the seconds wore on, wishing that Ron would get back or that Quidditch hadn't ended the month before (Gryffindor had won the cup, as well as every game, and Harry had ended his Hogwarts career with only one official miss, to Cedric Diggory in his 4th year). Kicking his trunk closed in frustration, he grabbed his new Lightningbolt broom (a Christmas gift from Sirius; Harry was afraid to ask where he had gotten the money), opened the window, and took off.

He rocketed over the grounds as fast as he could, going as close to the trees as humanly possible before jerking away at the last second. The cool, early evening air was like a salve to his angry attitude and he felt his soul fly free as he flew low over the lake. The calm body of water mirrored the pink sunset. He slowed down, took his sneakers off, threw them on the shore, and dangled his feet in the water as he flew, throwing all fears of anything lurking beneath to the wind.

Finally, he came to a near stop at the center of the lake and just stared at the sunset.

"Nice, eh?" a voice suddenly sounded from behind him, frightening him so much that he fell off of his broom and into the mirror-like water with a loud splash.

When he emerged from the watery depths, glasses crooked and sopping wet hair hanging in his face, he made out Ginny Weasley laughing so hard that she almost fell off of her broom as well.

"What did you do that for?!" he called as she swooped over to help him.

"I didn't do anything, Harry," she spoke between fits of giggles.

"Sure, sure, you just wanted to get me in my underwear again," he muttered as she handed him his broom, though, despite the fact that he was cold and wet, he was smiling as best as he could.

"Well, I did want to have that chance again. Last time I didn't even take advantage of the situation."

Harry laughed as he vaulted himself back onto his wet broom.

"Ginny, Ginny, Ginny," he said as he began to fly, with her in close pursuit. "A few years ago you wouldn't even look at me, let alone even dream of making a comment like that.

"Harry, times changed and so have I," she replied, grinning impishly as she moved even with him.

"I know. Who would have thought you would have beaten out Percy for grades, Ms. Prefect," she bowed slightly, "AND still beat Fred and George in the stunts you pull?"

"That, my dear Harry," she said as she followed his lead in a low dive around the castle, "has never been proven."

Harry gave her a sideways glance. It was true, she had never been caught.

"Tell me… whatever happened to the tiny blushing 1st year who couldn't even look at my dashing masculine form without going into admiring convulsions?"

"Well," said Ginny, "The same thing that happened to the 2nd year who wouldn't even talk to me to find out what a wonderful person I was until I started killing chickens and getting whisked away by ghost boys and evil snakes. But now that you mention it, there was the fact that you had no interest in me whatsoever."

"I wouldn't turn you down now," Harry teased as he began to increase his speed dramatically.

"Keep those hands for the golden snitch, Potter, I've got a boyfriend," she grinned broadly.

"Lucky guy he is too." Harry suddenly performed half loop, spun out of it equally as quickly, and began to dive back toward the lake. When he looked to his left, however, Ginny was still there. He whistled.

"Will you marry me?" he asked jokingly as he suddenly bolted upward.

"No," she replied, still even with him. He began to weave in and out of the trees.

"Why not?" he asked, going into the Wronski Feint. She knew exactly what he was doing, and pulled out of it right along with him.

"Because I'm prettier than you," she answered.

"No, you've got it wrong," he replied, suddenly gunning it for the castle wall. "I'm the pretty one." At the last possible second, his broom's angle changed 90 degrees and he began flying up the side of the castle.

"Really, Potter," Ginny responded, still next to him and not taking her eyes off of what was ahead of her. "Whatever you say."

"No, whatever you say, Ginny."

Harry stopped suddenly at the boys' dorm window, trying not to pant from exhaustion. Ginny looked like she was doing the same.

"Well, Weasley," Harry commented as he hovered, having turned himself right side up again. She followed suit. "Enjoying the new Lightningbolt, are you?"

"Potter, I worked all summer for three years for this thing, and then I had to wait until one of them had a manufacturer's defect so that the permanent lettering had a capital N instead of L, and _then_ I had to wait for them to ship it to me. Yes, I'm enjoying it."

"Well worth it, too," he commented, green eyes sparkling. "Certainly not wasted on a lack of talent." She had to smile at this. "You'll be a great seeker next year, Ginny," he said, tone softening.

"Harry, I've always sucked compared to you."

"No you haven't. Alright, you've convinced me, you have. And even so, you've always been better than Malfoy." She gave him a sideways smile. "And don't forget, the option of marrying me and learning all of my secrets is still open."

"Only if Colin can come on the honeymoon."

"Ouch, rejected for the third time. Why do you toy with my heart so?" Harry mockingly shielded his eyes as if he were crying.

"Well, because it's fun, Harry," Ginny responded, eyes twinkling.

"I had a feeling it was something like that," Harry answered, returning the twinkle. He noticed that she was watching the last rays of sun sink behind the trees. Turning to look, he absorbed the blue and purple gradient that the sky had become_. Last Hogwarts sunset_, he thought with a pang of remorse.

He sat with Ginny and watched the sky fade into a bluish black ornamented with winking stars.

"Mind if I come in your way?" Ginny suddenly asked, motioning toward the window. "The girls' dorm window is on the other side."

"Not at all, Ginny dear. Ladies first," Harry motioned toward the window. Ginny ignored his mockery, went first anyway, and waited as Harry flew in behind her.

"See you later Harry," Ginny said. Harry nodded, and she left the foreign dorm in search of her familiar one. As he watched her leave, he was glad that they had been able to become such good friends after her infatuation with him passed. The sight of his half-packed luggage brought him back down to earth and replaced that rather nice thought with an image of the piggish Dudley laughing at him. Frustrated, he kicked his trunk and sat down on his bed, ignoring the pain in his foot.

Just then, Ron's voice echoed up the stairwell. Harry heard it call "I'll see you later, Jessica!" and waited for his red hair and freckled face to appear at the door. He was not disappointed; Ron's grin appeared seconds later.

"What's wrong, Harry?" he asked immediately as he began squishing his belongings into his trunk. As much as Harry loved having heart-to-heart conversations with Ron about his inner feelings, he decided to artfully avoid the topic.

"So, Ron," he began.

"Yeah?" Ron replied in a muffled voice (he was holding a shirt in his mouth).

"Last night at Hogwarts," he continued. 

Ron spit the shirt out and replied, "So?"

"What do you say we commemorate the occasion?"

"And how do you suppose we do that?"

Harry felt a semi-evil smile cross his face, and watched Ron's eyebrow rise in a conniving expression.

***

Admittedly, they didn't do anything monumental, simply because they didn't really feel like doing anything to anyone except for Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle (and because they didn't have any really good ideas). They considered some chocolate frogs, a la Fred and George, that would make them burst into song and dance whenever the trigger spell was recited, but they scratched the idea when they realized that the only one who would know how to do that was Hermione. As they moaned about this in the common room, they were suddenly startled by the landing of a bag of chocolate frogs in Ron's lap.

"Been planning it for weeks," they heard Hermione's smug voice say from behind them. Harry's green eyes sparkled at her as they never had before. She looked up and smiled, almost modestly. "I couldn't leave Hogwarts without intentionally doing _something_ wrong, could I?"

"Says the head girl," Ron remarked.

"I worked hard to be head girl, Ron," Hermione answered. "I've studied, been good—"

"You mean, good at not getting caught?"

"Ron!" Hermione hissed. 

Ron shrugged. "So, is the head girl going to go with us to administer the frogs, or are we to do it without the honor of her company?"

"Shove it, Ron. Go by yourselves," Hermione said, sitting down and readying paper and a quill. "I have to write to Viktor."

At this, Ron grimaced. "Tell Krummy I said hello then, won't you?" he replied in a girly falsetto. She gave him a look. He told Harry to come on, and left the room, Harry hurrying after him with the invisibility cloak.

***

Two hours later they returned, wet, panting, and laughing. Hermione decided that she didn't want to know, but that she would ask anyway.

"So, how did it go?"

"How did what go?" Ginny, who had been conversing with Hermione, butted in.

"Well, we got in okay, and put it right by where Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were sitting," Harry replied. "We saw them pick it up, and then we left."

"What happened then? You look like you had to make a daring escape into a toilet."

"What did you do?" Ginny asked again.

"Well, not a toilet," Ron answered to Hermione. "Just a bath. And never chide me for making friends with 4th year girls again, Hermione, because it came in very useful today."

"Making friends my arse," Hermione muttered, her arms crossed. "So how did you almost get caught?"

"What did you guys do that you almost got caught at?" Ginny interrupted again.

"Your intelligent friend Ron threw off the invisibility cloak and began to skip down the hall," Harry addressed to Hermione. "Filch was right behind us, it turned out. When we were running away, we found some of Ron's 'friends' and they hid us in the girls' bathroom until the coast was clear. Then, we ran back here."

"Hid you in their tub. How clever."

"No, not hid us, kind of pushed us in… and they weren't actually in the tub, if that's what you're worried about, Hermione," Ron responded.

"I wasn't 'worried' about anything," Hermione snapped.

"WHAT IS GOING ON?!" Ginny yelled. Harry, Ron and Hermione stared at her with blank looks on their faces.

"You'll find out tomorrow, like everyone else," Harry answered smugly. She glared.

The three friends stayed up late that night. They reminisced about happy things, like the time in 4th year when Draco Malfoy was caught trying to fight with them and was turned into a ferret by Mad Eye Moody, or the time in 6th year when Draco Malfoy was caught threatening to beat up Colin Creevy at The Three Broomsticks and turned into a ferret by Madame Rosmarta, or the time earlier that year when he was caught trying to cheat in a Quidditch match against Gryffindor and turned into a ferret by most of the 7th year Gryffindor boys (and more than a few girls). Yes, Hogwarts held fine memories for them all, and they would miss it. They talked long after the fire had burned itself into ashes and the house elves came to restock it for the morning.

If you want to make my day, review :)


	3. Chapter 4

A/N: Hi, here's chapter 4. Lupin, who is beta reading this story, is a saint. Thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed me so far :) To answer a very popular question: There will be R/H eventually, but you are going to kill me because of both how long it takes to happen and how it turns out at the end. 

****

Chapter 4

Harry tried to pack for the third and final time. It had been a good last day at Hogwarts; breakfast and lunch were tasty, and the end of the year speech had been especially moving. He sat back and remembered the morning with a pang of longing.

"…And it has been a great honor to Hogwarts to school possibly three of the bravest young wizards in history, and to present them with the Order of Merlin, first class. Hermione Elizabeth Granger, Ronald Franklin Weasley, and Harold James Potter, please stand and accept this great honor." The hall exploded into applause; even most of the Slytherins, and yes, Draco Malfoy, were clapping, albeit grudgingly.

"…Go forth and help the wizard world, strive to make a difference, not just for yourselves, but for the people around you. Remember the sacrifices made by those before you, and by those among us today. Do your best to honor the memory of those who gave up their lives to ensure the freedom that you now have ahead of you in yours. Look to the future, and try to make it your own…"

By the end of the speech, Hagrid had been crying like a child a 16th of his size. When he saw Harry afterwards, he had grabbed him into a giant hug and made him reaffirm his promise that he would indeed write at least once a week, and visit at least once a year. He had continued to blubber about how he was leaving for so long that Harry began to tear up himself. Harry would definitely miss Hagrid.

Incidentally, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle entertained many with their forced rendition of "Wannabe" by the Spice Girls.

Now here he was, packing and preparing to seize his summer with the Dursleys, who were sure to ensure that having an Order of Merlin wouldn't go to his head. Remembering the wetness and/or pain he had experienced the last two times he packed, he refrained from making any rash actions motivated by frustration. Instead, he concentrated on neatly folding every item of clothing he owned so that it would actually fit in his trunk and allow it to close uninhibited.

At that moment there was a knock on his door and Harry walked over to answer it, wondering vaguely who still held the formality of knocking. However, the door was opened before he could reach it and in bounded a rather flustered and excited looking Hermione. Harry stopped and looked at her curiously.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

She grinned and flung a newspaper at him, which he caught. He saw the 3-inch headline and was rendered speechless:

****

PETER PETTIGREW, ALIVE AND GUILTY

16 years ago, one of the most notorious betrayals in all of wizarding history occurred when Lily and James Potter were murdered by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. They had performed the complex Fidelius charm and were thought to be using Sirius Black as their secret keeper. He betrayed them and divulged their whereabouts to You-Know-Who, after which he fled the area to avoid being found by his former friends.

After the Potters were killed, Peter Pettigrew was seen in confrontation with Black on a public street, but being no match for him he was literally blown apart by an extraordinarily strong curse, which also killed 12 other people.

Or so the world thought.

Pettigrew was found in the company of several former Death Eaters on Tuesday evening, apparently planning to seek and revive He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. After a struggle, he was brought in for questioning. The results of the interrogation were utterly shocking.

First, Pettigrew tried to get a reduced sentence by offering to name several Death Eaters who had not been apprehended. Then when questioned on why he was still alive, he would only say incriminating statements against Sirius Black

"…He forced me to do this…he's a murderer…"

The suspicions of these circumstances were only heightened after Sirius Black himself offered to turn himself in if he were given a fair trial and a chance to explain what had really happened on that fateful day, 16 years in the past.

According to Black's testimony (given on Thursday), he was not the person the Potters selected to be their secret keeper; at his suggestion, they chose Pettigrew. Pettigrew proceeded to betray their whereabouts to the Dark Lord, and went into hiding in a Muggle area. When Black learned of the betrayal, he immediately went to seek revenge for the murder of his friends and confronted Pettigrew on a public street. Pettigrew knew he could never prove to be a match for Black in a duel, so he used possibly his only asset to his advantage: he is an unregistered animagus. He yelled how Black had betrayed his friends, performed the curse that killed 12 behind his back, cursed off his finger (the biggest part of him that they found intact after the incident), transformed into a rat, and scampered away unopposed. When confronted with this story, Pettigrew unexpectedly broke down, confessed his involvement in the murder of the Potters, and begged for the chance to reduce his term in Azkaban by naming Death Eaters.

The Daily Prophet could reach neither Pettigrew nor Black for comment, but, after keeping the story from the press for four days, the Ministry released a statement concerning Sirius Black:

"We regret the rash decision we made to put Sirius Black in Azkaban without a trial. He has received a full pardon and our personal apology, along with some additional compensation."

This reporter has never seen such a drastic change of events. The story will be continued tomorrow when more information is at hand.

Harry sat down on his bed, still speechless. He heard a tapping on the window, and saw an owl trying to get in. After Hermione opened the window, the owl swooped in and landed beside Harry's legs with a small letter in its talons. Harry gave it a bit of bread he kept in his room for such occasions and, hands shaking, unfolded the note. Out fell a clipping of the Daily Prophet article he had just read, and he read the one-sentence letter with more joy than he had ever read anything in his entire life:

Harry, 

Meet you at the train station.

Love,

Sirius

Harry suddenly jumped up and began to pack with more earnest than he had ever packed before.

"Well?" Hermione asked, a little irked that she had been virtually forgotten.

"I'm living with Sirius now!" Harry glowed, dropping his final items of clothing into his trunk and closing it with glee. Hermione smiled in relief. 

"Good. No, great." He gave her a hug influenced by pure joy.

"Thanks for bringing me the article, Hermione," he said. 

"I didn't think you'd seen it yet and you hadn't mentioned anything about Sirius owling you about what was going on."

"Knowing him, he probably wanted to keep it a surprise or something stupid like that," Harry replied, gathering clothes from the floor.

"Need help?" Hermione asked, beginning to pile things in his trunk.

"Why would I need help?" Harry asked, staring oddly at her. "I can pack for myself."

"Well, the carriages leave in 10 minutes."

"Oh, yeah, in that case…" 

***

Harry continued to glow for the entire train ride home. Ron got so frustrated with his adamant cheerfulness that he threatened to kick him if he didn't stop. Harry had just shrugged and grinned, but Ron observed Hermione's glare and decided not to make good of his promise.

"Have you seen Seamus and Dean?" Harry asked Ron.

"Yeah, you?"

"Yeah, they're both going to Australia for the summer to 'have an adventure,'" Ron replied.

"Must be cool, what are they going to do?"

"I don't think they have any idea."

"Me neither, but still, why didn't they invite us?"

"They did, remember? We declined politely?"

"Oh yeah…"

"Hey Hermione, what are Lavender and Parvati doing?"

"They both got jobs at the ministry, actually," Hermione replied, "working under Percy."

"You're serious? When did he get promoted?" Ron gasped.

"I don't know, but they got their owls confirming their jobs this morning. You should find Percy in a very good mood when you get home today."

"Great," Ron muttered. "Something else to look forward to."

The train was lurching to a stop, and students were beginning to file out of their compartments and into the corridor of the train.

"Well, this is it," Harry said with a tinge of sadness. They gathered their things and stepped out of their compartment and faced the rest of the students, somber and contemplative. Their last train ride was over.

They stepped out onto the platform into the masses of anxious parents and younger siblings, almost losing themselves in the bustle. 

"I'll see you soon," Harry said, hugging Hermione (and even Ron, briefly of course). Ron and Hermione hugged as well, and the three promised to owl each other as soon as they got back to their respective homes. Hermione, who was going to try for the apparation test in the weeks to come, promised to visit them as soon as she did, and also help them with their apparation tests if they needed it.

Ron soon spotted his family, hugged Hermione again, gave Harry a good-natured slap on the back, and was off. Hermione found her always-nervous parents next, hugged Harry yet again, and was gone as well.

Harry was alone and looking, but he couldn't see him anywhere. Then he had a thought: what if the Dursleys arrived before Sirius did? He couldn't stand the notion of one more second with them; 16 years of torture had been quite enough. His heart fell into the pit of his stomach as he saw none other than Uncle Vernon with the same horrible look on his face (as always), standing near the door to the station. Harry slumped and sat on his trunk. Why?

Then, he saw another familiar face, no, _the_ familiar face, standing anxiously behind Uncle Vernon, eyes scanning the crowd for none other than he.

Harry grabbed his belongings and began to run toward Sirius and Uncle Vernon, who was looking as thought Harry was a dog with an unusual deformity. He looked even more frightened as Harry got closer and closer. Sirius finally saw his godson and ran to meet him. Harry dropped his things and they embraced in a hug, not noticing that Uncle Vernon had been pummeled with Harry's speeding luggage cart.

"I'm so glad you've been acquitted!" Harry exclaimed.

"Really?" Sirius laughed. "I can finally fulfill my godfatherly duties and rid you of those horrible Dursleys!"

Harry stifled a laugh as Uncle Vernon let out a small squeak from the floor next to them. Sirius grabbed Harry's luggage cart and proceeded to walk out of the station with Harry closely behind him; they both blatantly ignored the beefy man with a large mustache and no neck staring after them, shocked. 

They walked to Sirius' car (one of the ministry's "compensations" to Sirius), and Harry asked, 

"Why didn't you say anything to my dear old uncle?"

"Didn't want to have to start something that would be illegal to finish," Sirius replied, opening the door. "Besides, I don't think you'll ever hear from him again."

"Me neither," Harry grinned, buckling his seatbelt.

Sirius' tone suddenly changed and he looked anxiously at Harry. "Listen… home isn't much… to be honest, it's old and grubby and filled with junk from the previous renter. I didn't have that much money, only the savings I had left and money the ministry gave me to make up for the 16 years that they sucked away from me. That and I only had a day to look for somewhere to live. I have a job at the ministry now, actually," he continued. "They've got me on as an emergency auror. The pay's fair enough, and living will get better soon, I promise, and—"

"Sirius," Harry interrupted, "I wouldn't care if we were living off of rats in that cave by Hogsmeade that you used to haunt, so come off it."

Sirius looked relived, and started the car. There was a comfortable silence prevailing for most of the way to Harry's second real home.

***

For Harry, life with Sirius was the equivalent of a very pleasant haze from which he did not want to be disturbed. They slept late nearly every day and then ate breakfast together, reading alternating sections of The Daily Prophet and making casual comments on news stories and Quidditch games. If it was a day Sirius was on call, they might sit around the flat where Harry would assist Sirius in his newfound love of cooking by tasting his concoctions, or go down the street to the local pub. There was also the flat to clean out and decorate according to the tastes of two males, one 17 and one 38. Of course, throughout whatever they were doing there would be the constant flow of conversation to make up for the years that were missed. If Sirius was off, then more exciting things could take place (i.e. they could leave the general area). He definitely made up for lost time in that department; whenever there was a Quidditch game in England they would go, and he even taught Harry how to apparate.

He, Ron, and Hermione had all passed their N.E.W.T.'s with flying colors. Hermione had sent Harry a detailed account of her tortured existence upon having received her grades, which were apparently switched with some dolt who failed everything and went to another school. She had cried until her astute father noticed that the name at the top of the paper was none other than Herman Granger, and the next day she found out that he had achieved top scores on everything. Incidentally, Herman was rather disappointed, but life goes on.

Yes, happiness generally abounded through Harry's life that summer, and he had the best summer he could remember. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, and before Harry knew it he was sitting on the roof with Sirius, watching the sun go down, and, being an adult, drinking something a little stronger than butterbeer.

"I don't want to go," Harry said resolutely.

"You're going," Sirius responded.

"I'm having the time of my life, I want to stay," Harry stated.

"You're going," Sirius replied, tone unchanging.

"I could get a job at the ministry, be an emergency auror like you…we could make the flat even better with my paycheck, and maybe even rent a better one—"

"The pay rots, and you're going."

"From what you say, I bet that dad would have let me stay," Harry pouted, using a ploy previously never known to fail with Sirius.

"Your dad would have kicked you by now, and believe me, you would have gone anyway, and with a bruise."

"But I'm serious…"

"No, I'm serious, and you're going. Pun intended, by the way."

Harry sighed and took a large gulp of his drink.

"But won't you miss me?" Harry asked, putting on his puppy eyes.

"No, I'll be glad for the quiet. What do you think, Harry? I'd like nothing more than for you to stay here… but you are going to school and getting a good job and we can turn this flat into whatever you want during your vacations." Harry smiled in spite of himself. "If you make the Quidditch team, I'll come to every game I can possibly go to, I promise."

"I know," Harry said quietly. They drank in a comfortable silence for a bit as the birds chirped and the sun sank over the chimney tops.

***

The next morning came far too soon, and Harry and Sirius apparated over to the school (on time, surprisingly). Like Hogwarts, most of the school was secured so that no one could apparate or disapparate; however, there was a room specifically for the purpose of apparating in and out (and also a room that offered regular portkeys for a small fee in order to allow students to enjoy the occasional evening out). However, they had not stopped to notice the other room; as soon as they arrived, they headed toward room 343 in Tower 7 (students were randomly sorted into towers). The school accepted roommate requests and Harry and Ron had been put together, much to Harry's relief; begin able to room with Ron would make him much more at ease in the new school.

"All settled then?" Sirius asked, surveying his godson's tiny dorm room. The college was a large castle somewhere in Canada, though he didn't know exactly where; like most wizard schools, its location was kept secret. The students they had encountered had been of all nationalities, though the French population seemed to be prevailing. Sirius was glad that Harry had been able to room with Ron; so far he hadn't been able to bring himself to trust anyone he had seen, especially the legions of French girls. He himself had had some run-ins with girls from Beauxbatons when he had been at Hogwarts…but for Harry it would be different, he tried to console himself. He's 18, don't worry, he's his own person, he's lived on his own—

"Sirius?" Harry asked, looking extremely amused at the desolate look on his godfather's face.

"Sorry Harry, I'm just…do you really want to stay home? Because you can, you know, if you want to. I would let you, I was just kidding before…"

A broad smile slowly came across Harry's face. "I'll be home every vacation," he said, "and whenever you feel like fetching me on the weekend. I did pass my apparation test last week, you know."

Sirius looked a bit gruff. "Alright," he answered, sniffing. Harry gave him a hug and told him that everything would be okay.

"Get yourself a girlfriend," he told Sirius. "Make use of the empty flat."

Sirius laughed and hit him upside the head. "If your mother heard you talking like that she'd have charmed you so that your mouth tasted like soap for a week.

"You didn't," Harry replied skeptically.

"Well, I'm hoping to make good on your suggestion." Sirius paused, ignoring Harry's laugh, and looked at his watch. "I'd better get going, I'm on call in 10 minutes."

"I'll go with you," Harry started to say, but Sirius motioned for him to stay.

"I'll be alright, and Ron will be here soon. You stay here. I'll see you... Don't hesitate to apparate back if you need anything at all…" Sirius started to sniffle again and Harry, though he couldn't help but smile at the notion of Sirius blubbering, gave him another hug before he left.

Harry barely had time to miss him; a minute after he walked out, Ron walked in, followed by Mrs. Weasley and luggage.

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed happily as Harry jumped up and joined Ron in their secret handshake. Mrs. Weasley sighed and shook her head.

"Hello Harry dear, the house was so empty without you for the last month."

"I missed you too, I had fun the day I visited," he replied. "Sirius and I were spending quality time together, but maybe next summer he'll let me out of his sight for more than a day so I can visit longer."

"Oh stop lying to make me feel better," Mrs. Weasley responded, helping Ron start to unpack. "I know you wanted time with Sirius. I—"

"Okay mum, I think I'll be alright now," Ron interjected.

"Are you sure, Ron?" she asked lovingly.

"Yes," he replied, more firm than loving. Despite his tone of voice, he gave her a big hug before she left. Harry did the same, and before very long it was just like Hogwarts, except with plain beds and a much smaller room.

"So," said Ron, plopping down on his bed. "Want to go see when Quidditch starts?"

"Yeah," said Harry, eager to explore the school.

The Canadian castle they were holed up in was a rather nice school, and almost reminiscent of their beloved Hogwarts. Admittedly, it wasn't nearly as exciting; since it was a rather new building, the magic was very conventional to them and there were no trick steps, false doors, or hallways that led to different places on Tuesdays. Truth be told, they were fairly disappointed with the lack of difficulty they had getting to where they needed to go.

The Quidditch field made them both draw breaths of awe; it was a full-sized stadium with very large bleachers surrounding it, and the new goal hoops were begging to be used. There was a building off to the side that looked as if it consisted of locker rooms and other Quidditch necessities. They stood still with gaping mouths for a few seconds until a voice from behind them stirred them from their first visual fantasy, and brought them into another one.

"Nice, isn't it?"

When they turned, they encountered an extremely beautiful woman holding a Thunderbolt broom and gazing at the field. "I'm Coach Jennings, I'm in charge of just about anything Quidditch in the school." The two hormone-ridden boys stared at the Canadian beauty queen for a moment in surprised shock until Ron came out of his stupor.

"Aren't you Maggie Jennings? Didn't you play seeker for Canada?"

"Yes I did, I quit the team last year to be at home with my mother. She's ill, but getting better."

"Good," Ron continued. "I'm Ron Weasley, I play keeper, and this is Harry Potter, he's a—"

"Wait, THE Ron Weasley and Harry Potter?"

Ron looked startled and flattered that someone remembered his name as well as the great Harry's. "That's us," he answered proudly.

"Very glad to meet you both," Coach Jennings said earnestly, shaking Ron's hand and then Harry's, who was finally coming out of his stupor. "So what did you play at Hogwarts, Harry?"

"Er, seeker," he stammered, suddenly very shy.

"You're both trying out for Quidditch, I hope?" she asked as she began to walk toward the locker rooms. They followed.

"Definitely, yes!" Harry answered quickly, hoping he hadn't sounded too earnest. "Er, when are tryouts?"

"Warmups begin tomorrow, anytime from 9:00am to 9:00pm. Tryouts start next Saturday at 2:00 and run until dinner at 7:00. Teams and positions will be announced next Sunday.

"What positions are open?" Ron asked apprehensively, as he desperately hoped to make it onto a team.

"Well," she answered, "It depends on which tower you're in. Each tower has a separate team; third years automatically make the team if they played during their second year. First and second years, and third years that haven't been on the team before, have to try out. There are at least two players picked for each position for substitution purposes and also for a reserve team."

"I'm in Tower 7," Ron responded. "Any keeper spots open for Tower 7?"

"Yes. I coach that tower's team, actually." Harry's stomach gave a small leap at these words. "And I think we have a seeker position open as well, so you both have fighting chances."

Ron nodded, but he still looked a little worried despite the reassurance.

"How are the tryouts run?" Harry asked, managing to find the strength necessary to move his suddenly very heavy tongue.

"We start by testing you out on the position you want to play." She turned toward them while continuing to walk her slow, mesmerizing pace. "What do you two ride?"

"Lightningbolt," Harry answered quickly, eager to show off. She raised her eyebrows in admiration.

"Ah, third, last, and best of the ever-popular 'Bolt' series. Good choice, Mr. Potter. What about you?" she inquired.

"Firebolt," he replied a little timidly. After Sirius had bought Harry his Lightningbolt, he had insisted upon giving Ron his Firebolt. Normally he wouldn't have accepted anything from Harry, but in these circumstances he had made an exception. Besides, it had been a Christmas present.

"Also good. You two must fly well." They both reddened at the ears, but nodded eagerly. "Anyway, after the initial position tryouts we let you pick teams and then watch you play 10 minute matches against each other to see how you react in games. We let you pick the teams because we realize that you may have worked with certain people before and probably know their style, and also play well together. That, as you know, is a great advantage on the Quidditch field, especially if you're a beater," she said. Harry thought of Fred and George and knew it was true.

They had the building off to the side and were in an area that seemed to hold several offices. Names like Harris and McCollough appeared on the doors until they reached the one that read Jennings near the end.

"Would you like to sign up for tryouts now, since you're here?" They both nodded. She handed them the empty form, and they each signed their names on the top. "So, I'll see you boys tomorrow then?" she asked briskly, taking the sheet and posting it on the locker room door.

"Yes," replied Harry, dwelling on the "s" longer than necessary. Coach Jennings smiled broadly and bid them farewell. 

Harry let out a sigh. "I think I'm in love," he swooned.

"Ha, you're her student," Ron grinned. "But yes, she's extremely tasty looking."

Harry just sighed again and told Ron to leave him to his delusions of grandeur.

The two approached the library in search of Hermione, and sure enough they found her surveying a bookshelf with great interest.

Ron advanced with a smile and a greeting on his lips, but Harry quickly observed a dramatic change in his friend's features; his grin disappeared, his eyes ran cold, and he stopped moving toward her. Harry shifted his glance from Ron to Hermione, and saw the cause for Ron's change in demeanor: Viktor Krum had walked over and put his arm around Hermione, and they were now having what looked like a private conversation and exchanging the occasional kiss. Harry swore he saw Ron take on a tinge of green.

"Come on, let's wait this crap out," Ron muttered venomously and sat at a table, glaring daggers at the two lovers nestled between the bookshelves. Harry looked at Ron and sighed. He wasn't going to go there.

10 minutes of uncomfortable silence later, Hermione spotted Harry and Ron sitting at a table and ran over to converse. Viktor came as well; this was his third year, and he liked the school very much, he told them. He looked forward to seeing them at Quidditch warm-ups tomorrow, he continued, and if they needed any help they could just ask him and he would do all he could to oblige. Though he wished he could stay and talk, he had to reaffirm a change that had been made in his schedule, so he would see them later. He left.

"I'm so glad to see you!" Hermione beamed.

"Obviously," muttered Ron.

"What are your schedules? Do we have classes together?" Both Harry and Ron pulled their schedules out to compare them with Hermione's. Harry had decided that he was going to train to be an auror after all, as he felt that he certainly had sufficient experience in battling the dark forces; also it was one of the only things he felt absolutely confident in besides Quidditch. Hermione had taken Dumbledore's suggestion and signed up to study to become a spell developer, which was no surprise. Ron, however, had surprised everyone by choosing to study to become a wizard pediatrician. When questioned, he painfully admitted that he liked kids and was interested in the medical field, and left it at that.

The gaps between their chosen careers left them with only three common classes: general charms, general potions, and general defense against the dark arts. Harry's other classes were all advanced defense against the dark arts, while Ron's focused mostly on healing charms and recognizing curses and illness. Hermione's classes were a completely different story as they all focused in on learning the difficult task of creating spells. It was a small program, and most applicants dropped out after their first or second years.

"I can't wait for next year when I get to take an elective," Hermione exclaimed. "I'm going to miss arithmancy this year."

"I just hope that I'm going to have time to rest. This schedule looks like death to me," Harry commented. "Hey Ron, awfully quiet aren't you?" he continued. Ron grumbled and continued to glare at Hermione, who was beginning to get a bit uncomfortable.

"Oh stop it, Ron," she finally snapped, and began to gather up her books. "I'm in room 704 if you happen to need me…I believe we're all in Tower 7. I'm going there now, as my roommate is probably more pleasant than the carrot top. See you two at dinner."

Ron waited until she had stormed out of the library before he stuck out his tongue and made a face at the spot where she had last been. Harry sighed and shook his head.

***

The next day, Harry and Ron woke early and got ready for what they hoped would be the greatest potion class of their lives. Ron seemed to have gotten over his grudge against Hermione, Harry noted, as he greeted her cheerfully in the hall with a big smile that she returned.

"At last! A proper potions class!" she exclaimed as they made their way to the room with excitement. As they passed by the defense against the dark arts classroom, Ron suddenly turned pale and rushed back to the door.

"What, Ron?" Harry asked curiously.

"Oh…nothing…never mind, probably just seeing things," he said shakily. Harry looked at Hermione, who shrugged and continued walking.

The potions class was as wonderful as it promised to be.

"What do you know, I apparently have natural talent at it!" Ron gloated happily. They meandered back to the defense against the dark arts classroom and sad down next to each other, chatting about the finer points of the elementary truth potion. The seconds ticked closer to the beginning of the class.

"…And it turns out I was doing it fine all along," Ron was saying, "No thanks to that oily git Snaaaa…" He turned white again, but more dramatically this time, and his eyes looked like they would fall out of their sockets horror.

"Well, I see the wonder triplets are still attached at the hips," said a sickeningly familiar voice from behind Harry and Hermione.

They slowly turned around in their seats. First, they saw the midsection of a thin, cloaked male, and the further upward their eyes got they were greeted with an oily smile, a sickeningly familiar face, and greasy hair. Yes, Snape's dream had finally come true; he was a defense against the dark arts teacher, even if it wasn't at Hogwarts.

"Oh, don't looked so horrified," he sneered. "Class is about to start." He drew in a breath and attained a look that made it seem as if he were about to swallow some extremely distasteful medicine. "And don't make assumptions. As much as I hate to do it, I'd like to start with a clean slate, including with you three. So take me as I come and I'll do the same for you." Snape looked as though it had killed him to give the speech, and abruptly walked to the front of the room.

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	4. Chapter 5

A/N: Wow, two in one night…well, like I said last chapter, my beta reader Lupin is a saint. 

If you're just clicking in (how corny…oh well), then here's (most of) the story so far: Harry, Ron, and Hermione defeated Voldemort close to the end of their 7th year at Hogwarts. Sirius' innocence was declared, and Harry moved in with him for the summer before he went to Wizard University, where he is now. Hermione is still dating Krum, and Ron doesn't like that very much. Snape, to their dismay, is the DADA teacher, but he apparently made peace with them before the first class. Now, Quidditch…

****

Chapter 5

After getting over the initial shock of classes that day, Ron and Harry met on the Quidditch field and began to observe their competition. Ron paled as he saw several very large and very mean looking boys (and one girl) apparently practicing to be keepers. Harry paled as he saw the legions of seekers that he would have to face, and wondered how many would be trying out for the vacant spot in Tower 7.

"Hello, boys," the same angelic voice that had disturbed them the day before called from behind. Harry turned around instantly, said, "Hello, Madame Jennings," and thanked the Lord that his voice didn't crack.

"Ready to go?" she asked. Her light brown hair had been pulled into a ponytail, and she was wearing stylish red robes (red was the school color). Of course, Harry's mouth would have been nearly watering if she had been wearing a loose paper bag, but that's another story. Harry nodded, grinned, and took off, with Ron in close pursuit.

They practiced hard for quite awhile, oblivious to the fact that their stomachs were crying out for food until 7:30. As they exited the Quidditch field, Harry gave Madame Jennings a brief and slightly shy wave and a smile bordering on goofy. As soon as they were out of her sight, Ron smacked him on the back with his broom.

"Ouch, what did you do that for?" he snapped. Ron didn't answer, and Harry just glared and returned to his daydreams.

When they reached the dining hall and sat down, they had barely put food in their mouths when they heard someone say,

"So, zees are ze famous 'Arry Potter and Ron Weasley?" They looked up, mouths full of food, to view three French girls staring coolly down at them. Ron swallowed and said,

"Yes, and?" before shoving his fork back into his mouth.

"Nossing, just observing ze competition," the girl who had spoken before replied. Harry looked curiously at her blue eyes and medium brown braided hair. She was a little short and stout for a Beauxbatons girl, he decided, considering the standard 6-feet-tall- rail-thin look he had observed over the past day. Her two companions were another story; both had light brown hair and fit the look perfectly.

"Competition in what?" Ron asked, eating as he spoke.

"Quidditch of course," she answered. "We saw you practice. You are good."

"Thanks," Harry said. She glared.

"Too good," she answered. "My friends are in Tower 7; zey are a chaser and a keeper. Zere is only one slot, as you say, open for keeper." Ron raised an eyebrow; she sighed in exasperation.

"Zere are 7 teams, and 'ooever is in zeir sird year and 'as made ze team ze year before makes ze team automatically. Zere are sree years in zis school, and only one keeper graduated."

"And what are you?" Ron shot, obviously not pleased.

"I am a seeker."

"Really."

"Yes 'really,' what are you, stupid?"

"Sorry, just keeping conversation," Ron answered through a full mouth, clearly unaffected. The girl looked insulted. Harry feebly tried to repair the situation.

"What's your name?" he meekly asked.

"Michele Bender," she answered coolly.

"It's nice to meet you," Harry said, and smiled hopefully. She looked at him suspiciously and then returned the gesture.

"It iz nice to meet you too, 'Arry Potter. My friends and I should go and do our 'omework now, so I will see you tomorrow on ze Quidditch field."

"Bye," Harry said, smiling.

"Hey, can't your 'friends' talk for themselves?" Ron asked with a slightly menacing air. Michele gave him a glare worthy of an unfavorable rodent and stalked off, "friends" in tow. Harry glared at him a bit as well.

"Whot?" Ron asked, mouth full again. Harry shook his head, tapped his tray with his wand (the cafeteria made it so that this was how plates were cleaned), and walked off.

"Wait!" called Ron, grabbing a roll off his plate and running after Harry.

"Do you have to be so rude ALL the time?" Harry asked.

"Well, she wasn't exactly a can of peaches herself," Ron replied, a little irked that his friend was turning on him. _True_, thought Harry. She had, after all, nearly threatened him.

"Well, just try to be a little more polite next time." 

Ron snorted and shoved the aforementioned roll in his mouth.

When Harry opened the door to their tower's common room (there had been some disappointment over the lack of portrait doorways), he and Ron were greeted by the sight of Hermione doing something very un-Hermione-like with Krum on the couch. They quickly pulled apart, and Hermione turned so red that one could have confused her for a tomato. Harry stifled a laugh.

"Hi," he said, quickly making his way toward the staircase. Only when he got there did he realize that Ron hadn't accompanied him; he had frozen angrily in the doorway, roll still in his mouth, and had turned almost as red as Hermione.

"What, Ron?" Hermione finally asked quietly. He just stared at her and suddenly walked haughtily toward the stairs. As he was stomping up them, Harry asked,

"You do realize that that roll is still in your mouth?" Ron hastily removed the offending lump of carbohydrates and spoke.

"What the hell was she doing?" he shouted.

"Well Ron, when a man and a woman are fond of each other—"

"She was sucking his hook-nosed face!"

"And rather enjoying it from the look of it—"

"She was snogging his eyes out!"

"Well it looked like it was limited to his mouth, maybe his neck—"

"What the hell was she doing?"

Harry realized that Ron hadn't heard a thing he had just said, and silently listened to him babble himself in circles until they had reached their room, and all throughout their homework. Finally, before they turned the lights off, Harry grabbed his broom and knocked Ron on the back with it.

"OW! What did you do that for?" he yelled. Harry glared, got into bed, turned the lights out, and rolled over. Ron got the point.

***

For Harry, the next week and a half was very busy and very involved. Despite the lack of trick stairs and moving halls there was still a new castle to learn, and the workload was bigger and more difficult than it had been in Hogwarts.

Harry loved his classes—yes, even defense against the dark arts. Snape still showed definite signs of forced indifference toward Harry and his friends, but he turned out to be a very good teacher when his field was the one he preferred.

The homework was sometimes difficult to stay awake through after his self-inflicted Quidditch practices, but as usual he managed.

Sirius, to his relief, was doing fine. He had told him that it was lonelier than it had been with him around over the summer, but he was trying to keep busy. Television was helping him. He didn't yet have a girlfriend, despite Harry's orders to get moving in that department.

Hagrid was all right as well, according to his letters. With the return of Sirius came the return of Buckbeak, and after Sirius attested to the good nature of the beast the ministry decided not to execute him after all. Hagrid had been overjoyed, but still hadn't included hippogriffs in his curriculum until after his students were in their 7th year, had a week of intensive study on the consequences of misbehaving around them, and had signed waivers. Things were going smoothly at the school; Ginny Weasley and Colin Creevy were abusing their roles as Head Girl and Boy, and the first Quidditch game would occur in a week.

However, these things were all far from Harry's mind as he polished his Lightningbolt and changed into Quidditch robes. Tryouts were beginning. 

He and Ron walked tentatively out onto the field, unsure of where to go or what to do. Ron had the added obstacle of being upset, due to the fact that he had provoked Hermione into fighting with him over her public display of affection with Krum yet again. As one can assume, it had been a very rough week in the Ron-Hermione relations department. Michele Bender and her two wordless and nameless friends were standing at the edge of the restless, milling crowd that had gathered. Madame Jennings and the rest of the coaches promptly stepped out onto the field, leaving them no time to think about the coming events.

They started grouping people into their desired positions. Harry said goodbye to Ron and watched him walk off with the other keepers, all of whom seemed to have three times the mass as the tall and lanky Ron, except for Michele's "friend" who, though she was the same height as Ron, was probably 1/3 of his weight. As Harry was being led off with the other seekers (Michele Bender included) he noticed Hermione in the stands and gave her a wave, which she returned.

Madame Jennings, to Harry's immense joy, was the seeking coach. She waited until everyone arrived in the seeker area and began to give directions.

"This," she began, holding up a bright blue snitch, "is a practice snitch. It behaves as a real snitch would, but it stays in a smaller area so that it's a little easier to catch." She saw that everyone comprehended. "Each of you will have a turn with the practice snitch. Line up when I call your name. Andrews, Bender, Calahan…" she read down the list, Harry a little too nervous to embellish her every word. "…Malfoy, Potter, St. Michaels, and Veloise. Andrews, you're up."

Harry lined up against the wall with the 12 other seekers all vying for the few spots offered in each tower. As he saw Andrews catch the practice snitch within 3 minutes, and Michele Bender catch it in just under 2, his stomach began to turn a little.

"So Potter, we meet again," sneered Malfoy. 

Harry politely addressed him with a "Hi, Draco," and said nothing more.

"Still trying to prove your worth?" Harry didn't answer. "We're not in Hogwarts anymore, you know," he said, his voice getting more dangerous. Harry again didn't reply. "The real talent will shine once the favoring authorities are removed from the situation."

"I don't know 'oo's talent you are referring to, 'e's better zan you," Michele Bender suddenly spoke from near the front of the line. Draco looked a bit taken aback and said nothing more.

"Malfoy!" Madame Jennings called. He gave both Harry and Michele a smirk and sauntered over to where Madame Jennings was waiting. Harry's eyes would have stayed where they were for longer than necessary had Michele not shaken her head toward Draco and loudly muttered, "Leche-cul."

"What?" he asked, alarmed.

"Oh, not you. Zat Malfoy boy…zo your Weasley friend may qualify."

"No, I mean what does leche-cul mean?"

"Oh," Michele replied, reddening slightly, "Never mind."

"Potter, you're up!" Madame Jennings called. Harry's heart skipped a beat.

"Good luck, 'Arry," Michele said, smiling. He returned the gesture and went to meat his smiling, voluptuous fate. 

"Take off, I'll release it as soon as you're up," she ordered.

Harry kicked off the ground and began scanning the area for a flash of blue. He saw it almost immediately and went after it as if on reflex. Before he knew it,

"0:55! I'm impressed, Potter," Madame Jennings praised. Harry grinned. It was over. He stood back in line next to Draco Malfoy.

"Really doesn't take much to excite you, does it Potter?" Malfoy sneered.

"How do you mean?" Harry asked, unable to help himself.

"Well, take Madame Mudblood Jennings over there. My father knew her family—"

"And where's your father now, Malfoy?" Harry muttered. Malfoy abruptly shut his mouth and glared at Harry so fiercely that Harry thought he could feel it penetrate the side of his head.

"Don't ever mention my father or his whereabouts in my presence—or otherwise—again, Potter," Malfoy snapped dangerously, Harry's last name being insult enough.

"Then don't ever mention 'mudbloods' in MY presence again, Malfoy," Harry spit back.

"3:52, St. Michaels. Veloise!"

Harry was relieved that both Michele and he had done better than Draco, who clocked in at 1:54. Harry hated to admit it, but Draco Malfoy presented a threat of competition now; six years of seeking had taught him something.

"Do you know what we're going to do next?" Michele asked Harry.

"Nope," Harry answered, shaking his head. The tension grew slightly as everyone watched Veloise catch the snitch in 4:45.

"Alright. Now," Madame Jennings began, ensuring that she had everyone's rapt attention, "we're going to do it again. With bludgers. Line up, same as last time."

No one spoke now; it was all observation. Andrews finished in 4:54…Lowenstein was knocked by a bludger and exceeded the time limit…so was Debussy…Malfoy caught it in 3:10. It was Harry's turn.

He quickly deduced that bludgers were much more difficult to avoid in a smaller area, and had to devote most of the eyes he would use to look for the snitch to watching their behavior. At last he saw it, dodged the ball flying toward his head, swerved to avoid the other one in his way, reached out, and…

"2:00 even, Potter. Bender!"

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he landed, and thought that this may be the only time he had ever been glad to stand next to Malfoy. Draco didn't look at him, nor did Harry glance in his direction.

Michele caught the snitch in an impressive 3:13. Veloise surprised everyone and caught it in 1:59. Barely anyone in the line moved or made a noise.

Harry looked over to where the keepers were trying out and saw that Ron was up. One of the coaches was flinging quaffles at him, and from what Harry could see he was doing a pretty good job.

"Well, now we wait for everyone else to finish so we can put everyone in a match situation. You can all have a water break," Madame Jennings announced as Veloise landed triumphantly.

Harry began to wander aimlessly toward the locker rooms, and to his surprise Michele followed.

"You are better zan I sought," she confessed almost grudgingly. Harry blinked in surprise.

"Thanks…" Harry stammered. He began to tell her that she had been good as well, but she had left in a quick walk to where the chasers were (they had finished). A glance at the sky told Harry that the keepers were descending as well, and that the team selections would probably happen quite soon. He began to jog over to where Ron had touched down.

"Ugh," Ron moaned. "I missed 6."

"You did good, he was pounding those things at you," Harry consoled. As usual Ron didn't listen. A whistle blew and everyone's heads turned toward Madam Jennings.

"Everyone get into teams. Anyone without a full team, stand over here so you can get organized; those of you left over can sub in after games have been played."

Harry and Ron immediately paired off and began looking for the five other members of their partially formed team. Two female beaters, who introduced themselves as Betty Finn and Veronica Sawyer, promptly assaulted Harry and were gladly accepted. Ron found two chasers named Alex and Eddy, and Harry found a third named Joe.

Ten minutes later, the teams were set and the games began. Harry was pleasantly surprised at the excellent quality of the two beaters; they were just as good, if not better, than Fred and George had been. Their chasers weren't well matched so they didn't seem as skilled, but that meant Ron got the chance to show off his keeping abilities. Harry caught the snitch within ten minutes and they were granted leave for a late lunch. The list would be posted the next morning at 9:00 on the locker room doors.

Harry and Ron waved at Hermione again, but as she was waiting for Viktor she motioned for them to go ahead. Harry was too tired to listen to Ron complain, but endured it anyway, all through their belated lunch, all through their studying-filled afternoon, and all through dinner. After dinner, Hermione finally emerged from her Krum world and sat down with Harry and Ron.

"Hey, Hermione," Ron said, almost, to Harry's surprise, with tenderness, "I'm sorry for being such a git this morning."

"Oh," she replied, looking shocked. Ron never apologized, except when there was something involved relating to his own personal benefit. "It's forgiven," she said, still with some suspicion. "You did well in tryouts. Barely let anything by."

"Thanks, but don't be nice," Ron answered, shaking his head.

"Ron has a problem accepting compliments," Harry laughed. "I, on the other hand, welcome and enjoy them, hint hint."

Hermione smiled and told Harry that he had also done very well.

"So, how are your classes going?" Harry asked Hermione. "I haven't heard you talk about them."

"Oh," she said, surprised. "I haven't? I thought I mentioned them all the time…wait, it's probably because I talk about them with Viktor all the time, never mind." Harry winced slightly and looked off to the side just in time to see Ron bristle. "I love my classes, my professors are even considering letting me in on the research project Dumbledore talked about; usually only very advanced second and third year students get picked, but they think I might be able to hold my own. I'm really excited about it."

"When does this happen?" Ron asked, still trying to swallow the mention of Viktor's name.

"I don't know. Whenever they decide to tell me I guess," she replied, fiddling with a necklace she was wearing. Harry noted that it looked new and deduced that Krum had probably given it to her. He was thankful at that moment that Ron was dense enough about the world around him that he didn't realize this; he didn't want to have to deal with even more complaining. Ron had been fine for the most part during the majority of Hermione's relationship with Krum, excluding when he visited or when Hermione mentioned his name. Constant Krum exposure was obviously something that Ron could not handle.

"What about you, Harry?" Hermione asked, looking up.

"It's good, you know, mostly defense against the dark arts. Snape isn't being too hard." 

Hermione nodded. "And you, Ron?" she asked.

"Oh, er, well, just classes I guess. Lots of healing charms, some child psychology. No big deal."

"Oh," Hermione yawned, straightening up. "In that case, I'm off to bed. I'm dead. Goodnight, and don't worry…I'm sure you both made the tower's team."

"Night Hermione," Ron and Harry chorused, getting up themselves. Harry shook his head at Ron as they walked up the staircase.

"What?" Ron asked with annoyance.

"Don't kill yourself over it," Harry answered warningly. Ron gave Harry a look, and they turned down the dim hallway in search of their room.

***

The line outside the locker rooms was very tense the next morning when Harry and Ron arrived. Harry looked at his watch and saw that it was 8:58; there were two more minutes until the list was posted. Ron began to fidget with a napkin he had brought with him from breakfast. Harry's eyes scanned the crowd; before long he picked out Malfoy, Angelina Johnson (he would really have to go and say hi later, he noted), and Michele and friends. Michele was looking at the ground, not speaking, and Harry found himself silently hoping that she had made it.

At precisely 9:00, the entrance suddenly emitted a pure white glow; when it had subsided there was a list hanging on the heavy wooden door. The line soon dissolved and became a crowd of witches and wizards all clamoring to see if their name was listed. As Harry and Ron pushed closer, they heard choruses of "YES!" and saw sad and shocked faces, and even a few tears (all from boys, incidentally). Harry's doubts began to grow. Finally, the list was in sight; Tower 1…Tower 2…Tower 6…Tower 7: Chasers: Joe Svening, Rupert Wilson, Ezra Bennett; beaters: Betty Finn and Veronica Sawyer; keeper: Ron Weasley.

"Ron, you made it!" Harry yelled to Ron, who had gotten stuck toward the back. He heard a whoop of happiness and saw Ron literally jump for joy, then he turned his attention back to the list. Seeker…he almost couldn't bring himself to read the words, but he knew he had to move or the crowd would kill him (at the very least). 

Seeker: Harry Potter

Harry felt a smile creep over his face and he practically skipped off to tell Ron of their mutual good fortune. However, he had barely reached the edge of the crowd when he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"Congratulations, 'Arry Potter," Michele said as he turned around to see who it was.

"Thanks," he answered, grinning even wider. "Did you make it?"

"Oui, I am seeker for Tower 6."

"Well, I guess I'll see you in matches then," Harry replied.

"Yes. We will—" she stopped as she saw Ron approaching. "I will see you later, 'Arry," she said, and abruptly walked off. Harry watched her as she did so and ignored Ron, who was questioning, "Why?"

Oooh! Look! A little text box that you can use to tell me what you think of the story! Know what would be cool? If you used it :) Merci beaucoup.


	5. Chapter 6

A/N: Hello, I would have posted this last night but ff.n wasn't working for me for some reason. It works now though, so here is chapter 6 of my story. THANK YOU to everyone who has reviewed, you guys really don't know how happy you've made me, and I'm serious :) And as always, thanks to Lupin, the superb beta reader. To address a few issues, well, mainly one issue: Wait a few more chapters, and the Ron and Hermione tension will be resolved. I'm not saying how or when, but you'll see…I have to keep some mystery involved, don't I? Oh, and for all interested parties, the plot develops more from this chapter onward.

Disclaimer: It's not mine.

****

Chapter 6

It was moderately cool in the Arizona desert; dawn was hinting at the fast lightening sky, and most of the mammalian and reptilian occupants of the area were hidden underground waiting for the sun to rise over the dunes. However, two very unnatural creatures were prowling the area, though not without difficulty; they frequently tripped on rocks and other desert debris and their robes often snagged on elements of the terrain. Despite their bumbling about, it was obvious that they had graced the area with their presence for a purpose. They stopped in excitement when they saw what they must have been looking for: a lone snake off in the distance, slithering through the sand in their general direction. 

The pair stopped and immediately bowed, trembling slightly, unmoving as the snake weaved closer and closer. They had been searching for weeks, following every instruction their master had given them; their loyalty seemed to have paid off, for it was happening just as he said it would. They would be responsible for the resurrection of their master; their dreams had come true. Finally, they were disturbed from their groveling by a hiss from the aforementioned snake, which had arrived at the spot where the two large cloaked figures were bowing.

"My lord!" they both whispered humbly. 

"We have come to serve you," the wizard on the left trembled. The snake obviously didn't need more explanations, for it gave a loud hiss, went suddenly taut, emitted a blue-green light that expanded around the wizard who had pleaded with it, and suddenly lay limp and still.

The one on the left turned around so that his back faced his companion. However, where the back of a head would have been there was another face, sickly, gray, and snake-like.

"Goyle," it said, almost hissing. "You and Crabbe are truly two of my most treasured servants. You shall be rewarded dearly." Goyle dropped into another worshipping bow and once again declared his loyalty to his master. "Stand up," Voldemort ordered. "There is work to be done. This time, we shall not fail."

With a pop, the two were gone before the sun rose over the hills and the first lizards crawled out into the light.

***

Hermione yawned, rolled over, and wished for another hour of sleep. She had been extremely busy for the past few weeks and the increased activity was beginning to take its toll on her. She had been spending a lot of time with Viktor Krum lately; she decided it was nice having a boyfriend in close quarters. He had taken a year off to continue with his Quidditch career after he graduated from Durmstrang, but came to school after the Bulgarian team promised to hold his spot until he graduated from college. It was true that she noticed more faults in him once they started spending an excess of time together, but she thought it was only natural. After all, people are idealized when there are only carefully planned letters and weeklong visits to derive information from. The two were beginning to fall into a comfortable familiarity, and Hermione couldn't say that she wasn't grateful for the slight increase in time that she began spending by herself.

Harry and Ron had been another story; ever since they had both made the Quidditch team they had been spending even more time apart than they had before. Hermione had three classes with them, and many days it was the only time she saw Ron and Harry. She missed them; only last summer it felt as if they would always be as close as possible, but now she felt that they were drifting apart. She felt this especially with Ron, who seemed to have some sort of problem with her involvement with Viktor. She found it so irritating that he thought he could control her so far as to say whom she should and shouldn't date. Her fists clenched just thinking about it. He had some nerve. Just the night before he made a comment, something like, "Who are you?" when she had said hi, and when she gave him a look he had answered, with a shocked expression, "Good heavens! She's emerged from Krumland!" _Why can't he be more mature, like Harry? _she thought

With a sigh, she resigned herself to the fact that the extra hour she hoped for would not materialize and began to ready herself for her classes. She really and truly loved her classes; they were all they were at Hogwarts and more. She quickly found her previously occupied academic niche (the top), and just kept working.

As good as she was at all of her subjects, spell developing was the one she enjoyed most. To invent a spell, there first must be a name for it. Wizards had used Latin since the language was derived; therefore, naming spells was as simple as an elementary translation. Actually making them work was another story; standing in front of a flower, pointing a wand, and declaring (in Latin), "scent of tangerines!" would never do a thing without the number work behind it. 

Yes, spell developing included Hermione's favorite things in the world, even more so than reading: numbers and logic. The mathematical combinations and calculations required to create even a simple spell were excruciating to most students; for Hermione, after an initial week of trouble it became a breeze. By the first quarter of the term, she was months ahead of everyone else in her class. Now she was being considered for a special research team that was in the process of inventing a defense for Avada Kedavra. If she were included, she would be exempt from spell developing and could use that time to work on the project. Needless to say, she desperately wanted to be included.

Hermione sleepily made her way down to breakfast and saw Ron and Harry talking groggily at the end of a table.

"G'morning," she murmured, ordering pumpkin juice and toast. Ron looked up and said,

"Hello."

"'Lo," mumbled Harry through a full mouth.

"What are you up to today?" Ron asked, gulping some sort of liquid down his throat.

"Well, classes of course, then it depends on if I get picked for that research thing I told you about. Viktor has Quidditch until dinner, so I'll probably be in the library until then."

"Oh," Ron replied mockingly, unable to control his glare. "Well, I hope you have fun then."

"What?" Hermione snapped.

"Nothing. I didn't SAY anything wrong," he muttered, keeping the glare. She abruptly left the table in a huff, oblivious to Harry hitting Ron upside the head, and went to charms early. 

She greeted the professor and sat at her usual table, pulling out a book that she was going to pretend to read while she mulled over why Ron was such a prick. Granted, he was right about the fact that it was true she hadn't spent more than 20 minutes a day with him and/or Harry for the last month or so, but, so what? It's not as if they were making extra concessions so they could spend time with her. They had Quidditch, and Quidditch, and more Quidditch…all they cared about was Quidditch. Then again, she missed them almost desperately. Viktor was one thing, a boyfriend; Harry and Ron were her friends. She had of course made some friends in her classes, but none of them ever went to the extent of that which she supposedly shared with Harry and Ron. But Ron still had no right to act like such a prick. She sighed and closed her book as people began to walk in, eyes on the doorway in search of Harry and Ron. They appeared momentarily, still sleepy looking, and took their usual seats, Harry next to Hermione and Ron next to Harry (he usually sat next to Hermione as well, unless they were arguing).

"Let's go out tonight after dinner; we can portkey into Toronto, exchange money at Gringotts, see a Muggle movie, then we can get something to eat. Viktor can do something else."

They both looked at her with surprise. "Well, we might as well take advantage of being allowed to leave whenever we want…it is a Friday, after all."

"Sounds good to me," Ron replied, bewildered.

"Should be fun," Harry answered, smiling slightly. "Despite SOME of our behavior," he jerked his head toward Ron, "we've missed you just a little."

Hermione smiled and didn't reply; after all, the professor had just stood up to discuss difficult healing charms for sick and/or injured animals.

***

"Hermione Granger, may I speak with you?" Professor Meyers, the spell developing instructor, called across the room to where Hermione was studying. Her heart gave a small, hopeful leap in her chest and she timidly walked past the struggling students to the desk at the front of the room. "Congratulations, Ms. Granger," Professor Meyers immediately began. "The research team said they'd be glad to have you on board." Hermione felt a gigantic smile take over her face, which was promptly returned by her professor. "This," she said, addressing a figure sitting next to her that Hermione had not noticed before, "is Professor Penny Yang, and she will explain what's been going on and help you get started. Good luck," she finished, smiling. Hermione thanked her professor and followed Professor Yang out of the room and down the hallway.

"Nice to meet you, Hermione," she said as they left the room, extending her hand.

"Nice to meet you as well," Hermione replied, shaking her hand.

"We've made a lot of progress in the past several months," Professor Yang began as she opened a locked door and they both stepped inside. "I was told you know about your headmaster's involvement in the project." 

Hermione nodded.

"That was the rough version of the spell; it is extremely complicated, and as you know didn't work effectively as we'd hoped."

Hermione nodded again.

"What we're doing now is trying to fully dissect Avada Kedavra again, and then combine it with a reflective shield charm that we are currently in the process of inventing. Once that's finished, then we will call all of our voluntary test subjects back and try the charm on them again and hope for the instance of one of their attempted murders, and of course that the curse is successful."

Hermione nodded yet again and asked, "What did the charm consist of the last time you tested it?"

"It was supposed to be just a complete reverse of the spell employing the use of many counter-curses, but something in the makeup of the Avada Kedavra curse was mapped wrong and/or contained some currently incomprehensible aspect that does not allow counterspells to interfere."

"Well, it lets the victim remain alive; that's an achievement in itself."

"It was so difficult to perform that we had to bring Albus Dumbledore himself in to perform the spell on everyone who was testing it; none of us came close, not even our best professors."

Hermione nodded once again in understanding.

"Here we are," Professor Yang said as she opened a door to reveal a large room resembling a Muggle laboratory in an old castle. The eight occupants of the room all looked up and nodded at the new member of their group. Professor Yang proceeded to point out everyone in the room, and handed Hermione a rather large book.

"This is your notebook; your section is at the end. We all have books like this. They've been enchanted to make whatever someone writes in their section appears in everyone else's book as well. It makes it much easier to compare notes and decide what to research or experiment with. Document whatever you do in the notebook, no matter what the results are. If you have any questions at all, go ahead and ask. I'll be sharing a table with you, alright?"

"Alright," Hermione answered, very ready to begin. Penny smiled and began to work; Hermione sat down with the notebook and began to read, feeling as if she had just entered heaven on earth.

***

"Where the hell is she?" Ron snapped, looking at his watch for the twelfth time that minute.

"Calm down Ron, she's only two minutes late, she probably got tied up on her way down here," Harry groaned, very exasperated. Ron grumbled. Harry proceeded to ignore his temperamental friend and began to daydream about Quidditch, trying to expel thoughts of Michele from his mind. She had been talking to him whenever she saw him (when Ron wasn't near), and he had been eagerly talking back. He found her boldness refreshing and her honesty brutally attractive, he admitted to himself, but he was still scared of her and wasn't really sure if she actually like him or if she was just being nice so she could use him for his Quidditch skills.

In fact, they had just spent the afternoon together after defense against the dark arts. He had been walking down the hall with her, talking…

"Snape iz assigning too much 'omework," she had said, amusedly watching Harry struggle under the weight of both his books and hers (he had offered to carry them).

"Yeah, I'll have to agree with you on that," Harry replied, shifting the weight from one arm to the other, trying not to show any evidence of discomfort and following the top of Michele's head because he couldn't see anything else over the pile. Suddenly, he noticed they were taking a little too long to get to Michele's tower… "Hey, where are we going?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, I 'ave to go to the potions room to get somesing zat I forgot," Michele admitted. "I'm sorry for taking advantage of you…oh, wait, no I'm not," she grinned.

"That's it, abuse poor little Harry, the strong one who carries the books out of the kindness of his little heart," Harry muttered.

"No, out of ze need for him to prove his manhood to me for some odd reason," Michele answered.

"I don't need to prove anything," Harry replied, flexing his muscles just to show off even though it didn't occur to him that she couldn't see his arms through his robes, or that he wasn't exactly stronger than the average wizard anyway.

"Sure, 'Arry," Michele grinned as she walked through the potion dungeon door. "You can put ze books down now, we're here."

Harry did his best not to put them down too quickly, but he failed and Michele laughed. "I, um, dropped them," he tried to explain with a smile, but she would hear none of it.

"Oh be quiet, zey're 'eavy, I know." Michele laughed.

Harry just grumbled. "So what are we here for anyway?"

"I 'ave to get my book on ze famous one-eyed witch Yolanda de Rousseau, she was famous for her work wis various poisons."

"Really, a one-eyed witch?" Harry asked.

"Yes, why?"

"There was a statue of a one-eyed witch at Hogwarts, I was wondering if it were the same one," Harry replied. For some reason, the tables had all been pushed off to the side of the room. The bricks all formed a pattern that converged in the center where they met a large, pentagon shaped brick, upon which Harry sat.

"Why do you remember zat? I 'ave never been to 'Ogwarts, but from what you 'ave told me zere were lots of statues."

"This statue was special," Harry responded, smiling in recollection. "It was a secret passage to Hogsmeade, the wizard village by the school. You tapped its hump," Harry tapped his wand on the floor, "and said _Dissendium_—AUGH!" Harry was cut short as the ground below him suddenly collapsed and he fell down into the darkness.

"'ARRY!" Michele yelled and ran over, looking into the hole he had fallen into.

"I'm alright," he called from below. "It's not too deep, and the landing's soft. This must be a secret passage or something…come down, let's look around!"

Michele didn't answer, but a second later Harry sensed that someone had landed beside him. "_Lumos_," they said simultaneously, and grinned as their faces came into each other's view. 

"Well, let's go!" Harry said eagerly, and they were off. Admittedly, it wasn't very exciting; there were some twists and turns, and at the end of the passageway there was a big room that held many ancient looking things that seemed to belong in a prison.

"Zis looks like a secret dungeon," Michele muttered in awe as she looked all around her.

"Yeah…and I think this is it, I don't see any way to leave here except the way we came. But this is still very cool," Harry replied, walking around and looking at some of the shackles attached to the walls. Michele followed, and together they examined what looked to be a torture device from the middle ages.

"Zis is interesting, I sought zat ze castle was built recently," Michele said, running her hand along part of the top.

"Hermione told me that the foundation had been here for awhile, and that it was restored for this school," Harry said, picking up a piece of a broken cuff and examining it. As Harry leaned down to put it back, he bumped heads with Michele, who giggled shamelessly.

"Sorry about that," Harry exclaimed, smiling, putting his hand to her head to see if she was alright. 

"I'm fine," she replied, putting her hand on his and drawing it away from her head. Harry found himself staring into her clear brown eyes, which held two reflections of light, one for both of their wands. Suddenly, he was very aware of the feel of their hands touching; if she felt the same, she certainly didn't seem to mind.

"Are-are you sure?" Harry stammered, doing the only thing that seemed natural and taking her other hand, not moving his eyes from hers. 

"Yes," Michele answered quietly, pulling Harry a little closer with her hands, "very sure…"

Harry's heart began to beat faster as he noted that he could hear her breathing, and felt himself slowly drawing her closer to him. Her eyes didn't move as their arms touched, and he felt himself silently leaning down to touch his mouth to hers…

"…With stupid Krum, sucking his brain out by way of his mouth…" Ron continued to mumble, fading back into Harry's reality. Suddenly Ron stopped, waved at the door, and muttered "finally" under his breath. Harry, upset that his recollection had been disturbed, ignored him and waved to Hermione as well.

"Sorry I'm late," she breathed as she made her way over to them. "I made that research project; I was in the lab and I lost track of time." Ron opened his mouth, but Harry kicked him in the shin before he had a chance to say something. Hermione didn't notice since she was making her way toward her dorm room.

"I'm going to get ready; I'll be down in a minute," she called as she ascended the staircase.

"Ron," Harry began sternly, "I suggest you congratulate her when she gets back, and don't say a word about Krum tonight, alright?"

Ron glared and began to grumble again. Harry told him to shut up, and watched the staircase for Hermione's reappearance. 

She soon emerged with braided hair and Muggle clothing (Ron thankfully seemed to obey Harry and did not say anything about Krum), and they walked to the portkey room. Harry enjoyed the freedom the college offered; it was a refreshing change from the extreme security of Hogwarts.

"So, Hermione," Ron began. She looked at him suspiciously. "Congratulations on making that thing," he said hurriedly, eyes not moving from the hallway ahead of him.

"Thank you, Ron," she smiled. He sneaked a glance in her direction and smiled a little as well. Harry let out a sigh of relief at the exchange, then waved eagerly as he saw Michele passing by with her two silent friends.

"Salut 'Arry," she waved, grinning.

"Hey," he replied, and smiled back.

Hermione gave him a sideways glance, and inquired after his friend.

"Oh," Harry answered, reddening slightly at the ears. "That's Michele. She's the seeker for Tower six." Hermione nodded, and thankfully didn't pry any deeper into the matter.

They took an empty soda can to the small hidden wizard section of Toronto, and they embarked into the Muggle section for their stereotypical night on the town. Two hours later they exited the theatre, excited about their viewing experience. Though Harry had lived as a Muggle for almost the entirety of his first eleven years the Durselys had never taken him to a movie theatre, and of course Ron had never been, but they both thoroughly enjoyed it (even though Ron was easily confused by references meant for Muggles, and kept asking why spells weren't used because they could make things so much easier). They were surprised to feel how cold it had become when they emerged from the theatre; Hermione, who had relied on the weather forecaster's prediction that temperatures would not drop under 60 degrees, had not brought a coat and immediately began to shiver. Ron took one look at her, shed his jacket, and offered it to her. She gave him a surprised look and a shy smile, and accepted. Harry shook his head, but did not dare comment as he hoped not to disturb the rare and amicable conversation that had developed between the two; they were talking school, Hermione's classes, Quidditch, and some other things—and they weren't fighting! Harry treasured the extraordinarily rare moment; it was almost like old times (well, like a rare moment in old times). After awhile Ron, who was beginning to feel his stomach growl, asked,

"So, where do you want to eat?

"How about there?" Hermione suggested, pointing to what looked like an esoteric Middle Eastern restaurant. Harry controlled his snort of laughter as he saw Ron blanch and reply,

"Alright then." Hermione grinned and walked quickly to the door. Ron was right behind her, his face suggesting that he was about to regret this, and Harry went cheerfully behind the both of them, very willing to risk horrible food to see how Ron would handle the situation.

The light was dim in the small restaurant, and ethnic music was playing softly behind the bustle of the waiters and waitresses and the conversation of the customers.

"Hermione," Ron began, taking a deep breath. She looked at him expectantly. "Yoolonistnight," Ron mumbled.

"Yes?" she asked, unsure of what she heard.

"I said, you, um, look nice, tonight," Ron repeated, going very red. Hermione pulled a stray piece of hair hanging in her face back behind her ear, and sheepishly said thank you. Harry reaffirmed Ron's compliment, causing her to act even more embarrassed. 

"Three?" a waitress asked, interrupting the Kodak moment. 

"Yes," Ron replied, snapping back to reality. The waitress led them to a table next to some plants and a wall with faux gold trimming. She gave them menus and the ordering process began.

Hermione merely took a minute to read the menu over, and immediately made her selection; she proceeded to close her menu with a triumphant movement of her hand. Ron eyed her suspiciously and asked,

"What are you ordering?"

"Tabouli and Kibee," she responded.

"What the hell is that?" 

"Tabouli is a parsley salad, with onions and wheat and tomatoes—"

Ron put his hand to his mouth and let out a cough that suspiciously sounded like "birdfood."

"—and," Hermione continued, trying to control her urge to giggle, "kibee is heavily flavored and very lean beef, raw or—"

"Raw meat?!" Harry exclaimed. "Never mind, let's go, Ron."

"No, it's good," she tried to reassure him, though she was laughing.

"It's raw meat!" Harry shot back.

"I think I'll try it," Ron suddenly interjected. Harry turned and looked at Ron like he was from another planet.

"Are you insane?" he asked.

"No, just feeling adventurous," Ron replied. His face once again told otherwise. Hermione, not wanting to disturb this utterly amusing and very curious situation, decided not to mention the fact that it also came fried on request.

The three got back to the school around midnight, and Harry quickly retired to his dorm, saying that he was extremely tired and needed to rest for the Quidditch match the next day against Tower 3, Malfoy's tower. Ron was left looking curiously at Hermione for a moment before he blinked, raised his eyebrows, touched her gently on the arm and said goodnight. 

_Interesting_, thought Hermione, furrowing her brow. She didn't understand Ron in the slightest, and though this bothered her to the point where she felt uneasy, she wasn't sure she wanted to.

***

The next morning, Harry woke with his alarm and literally leaped out of bed.

"Wake up, Ron, Quidditch game!" he said pertly. Ron, instead of moaning and rolling over as he usually did, leapt out of bed as well.

"Oh, incidentally," Harry said as he pulled a shirt over his tantalizing, muscular chest (A/N: sorry, I'm kidding, I just couldn't resist, hehe), "good show last night."

Ron winced and began to put some clothes on. "How do you mean?"

Harry donned a high, sarcastic voice and replied, "Oh Hermione, I'll eat raw meat for you—" He was forced to stop as Ron threw a pillow at him. 

"Shut up. I wasn't like that."

"You're right, you were worse. You had this look on your face, it was all I could to stop myself from laughing."

"I did not!" Ron started digging for his Quidditch robes.

Harry just laughed. "You know, you could score more points if you stopped acting like an arse 99% of the time," he said, sticking his wand in his shirt like he always did before a Quidditch game, out of habit.

"I don't act like an arse! I'm a nice and sensitive guy!"

"Who frequently acts like an arse because he's—" 

Ron shot him a look that was worthy of Draco Malfoy in his finer days, and Harry thought it best to obey Ron's initial order and shut up.

Hermione, who had been awake for hours, was in the common room reading out of the notebook she had received the day before. Just as she was closing it, having both finished reading everyone else's notes and formulating a few ideas of her own, Harry and Ron came bursting down the stairs.

"See you in an hour," Ron yelled as he and Harry ran right back out through the exit into the school.

Hermione shook her head, grabbed her bag, and left to find Viktor so they could sit together during the Quidditch game.

***

"That was great!" Sirius commended four hours later after Harry had joined him outside the Quidditch field. Harry smiled as they began to walk to his tower so he could get some robes for the next day.

The game had been an especially good one for both Harry and his team; Ron hadn't let a single quaffle by despite the valiant efforts of Angelina Johnson (whom Harry still hadn't spoken to, incidentally) and co. The Tower 7 chasers had scored 30 points by the end of the first 30 minutes, and there were many close calls with bludgers. Harry had eventually caught the snitch, though he could have gotten it sooner; Draco Malfoy, though he didn't say very much, had pulled several stunts (such as blocking him and signaling to beaters) to ensure that he didn't catch it any sooner. However, Harry had finally managed to get by him by executing the Wronski Feint, causing Draco to crash to the ground in a tangled pile of limbs, and then grabbing the snitch while Draco was still incapacitated. The crowd had screamed and Tower 7 had won the game. 

As he and Sirius were walking back, Harry's head was pulled out of its little cloud when Madame Jennings called from some ways behind them.

"POTTER!" they heard her yell, "WAIT UP!" Sirius gave Harry a questioning look, but the look of doubt was soon replaced by a look that said "Hel_lo_" (that Harry was sure he pulled from his old school days) as the woman running after them came into clear view.

"Fantastic job today, Potter," she commented, slapping him good-naturedly on the back. "Haven't seen that good of a Wronski Feint in a long time. You have a definite shot in the pros if you decide to aim in that direction." 

Harry almost blushed. "Thanks," he answered sheepishly.

"So, who's this?" she asked, motioning toward Sirius. Before Harry could answer, Sirius cut in and introduced himself.

"Black, Sirius Black," he said proudly with an air of mystery, extending his hand.

"Oh," she replied, surprised, but extending her hand to meet his. Instead of shaking it he kissed it, causing her to smile and Harry to sigh with exasperation.

"Harry lives with me now," he commented, answering her unasked question of how he was currently connected to Harry. "Great kid; I hope he's that way here as well."

"Yes, he's very good," Madame Jennings replied, oblivious to Harry's rolling eyes. "I'm Maggie Jennings, by the way." Sirius nodded, furrowing his brow in sudden thought.

"Weren't you pro once upon a time?"

"Yes, until last year."

"You were excellent from what I remember."

"Thank you," she replied happily. The small chat continued until they reached the hallway that led to the cafeteria.

"I'm going to get something to eat; it was very nice meeting you," she said, looking at Sirius.

"I'll see you again when Harry has another game, I promised him I'd make them all. Hopefully, no plans will change," he replied, giving her his trademarked Sirius Black look and hoping that its effect hadn't waned over the past 17 years. She gave him a sideways smile with a hint of mischief in her eyes, which then swept over to Harry.

"Well, great job again Harry; I'll see you at practice on Monday."

"Bye," Harry said pleasingly as she disappeared down the hallway. Harry had definite place to ridicule his godfather, but they had walked no more than two steps when they were stopped by a French accent calling to them from down the hall.

"'Arry!" Michele yelled, jogging to catch up. 

_Oh no_, thought Sirius, _It starts_.

"You were fantastique!" she cried, kissing him solidly on both cheeks. Harry blushed slightly and raised his eyebrows, hoping that this was as a result of yesterday and not some bizarre French custom. They hadn't spoken since the incident the day before.

"Ahem," Sirius grunted. Harry was again brought back down to earth, and decided he'd better make an introduction.

"Michele, this is Sirius, my godfather," he began grudgingly. "And Sirius, this is Michele, seeker for Tower 2."

"'Ello, nice to meet you," Michele said.

"Pleasure's all mine," Sirius responded, trying desperately not to laugh.

"Well, I will see you later 'Arry," she commented as she squeezed his hand and left down the hall with a little wave over her shoulder. "Congratulations!"

Sirius gave a low whistle. "Working quickly then, Potter?" he asked.

"'Hopefully, no plans will be changed,'" Harry shot back in a high voice, giving him an imitation of the look that Sirius had given his Quidditch coach.

"Hey now, I'm the older one, I have seniority, I'm allowed to tease," Sirius said, unaffected, as they entered the common room. Hermione was sitting with Viktor at a table holding her research notebook.

"Harry!" she called happily. "Great job!"

"Thanks," he replied, smiling.

"You haf gotten better, I look forward to playing against you," Viktor complimented. 

Harry's grin widened. "Four months, Krum," he stated.

Viktor Krum just laughed.

"I'll see you Sunday night or Monday," she said, getting up from the table and giving him a hug. Harry grabbed the bag he had packed beforehand from the corner.

"Don't fight with Ron too much," he commented, ignoring Hermione's retort of,

"Tell that to HIM."

Harry and Sirius began to make their way to the apparation room, but were continuously interrupted by Harry's well-wishers, so no conversation worth mentioning took place (it was all interrupted). They finally reached the room, and with two small "pops" they were behind the Leaky Cauldron. They entered through the back and were greeted ceremoniously by the evening crowd, took a table, ordered their first drinks, and resumed conversation.

"So, what's with Ron and Hermione?" Sirius asked, taking a large gulp of his drink. "Going for each others' throats? Wink wink nudge nudge?"

"No, not yet," Harry answered, taking a large gulp of his own. "They're just always about to kill each other. Ron's so jealous that I think his hair's turning green. You know."

"Yep," Sirius agreed, pouring himself another. "So, what's been going on with that girl we saw in the hall? You haven't mentioned her."

"Oh, well..." 

_Harry's ears are reddening_, Sirius noted in amusement.

"Nothing really. Just talk. She's a rival in Quidditch." Harry had decided not to mention what had happened the day before until he got some answers.

"Mmm hmm," Sirius responded, pouring himself yet another glass and also refilling Harry's. "Did she go to Beauxbatons?" Harry nodded in reply. "Well then, I've been meaning to tell you; watch out for those Beauxbatons girls, they're trouble."

Harry laughed and asked him whatever made him say that, and the next three hours were spent drinking and listening to Sirius talk about the French exploits of his younger years. When closing time was called, they each had one last drink and began to walk back to the flat, albeit a little wobbly.

"Oh," Sirius started as they plodded down the street. "I forgot. We got a new roommate, I hope you don't mind." They had reached the door, and Harry stopped, confused.

"What?" he asked. "Not a woman?"

"No, unfortunately," Sirius answered, shaking his head vigorously as they began to climb the stairs. "I tried to do what you said, but it just hasn't worked out."

Harry laughed in spite of himself. "Jogging on the other side of the tracks then?" he inquired, smiling. 

Sirius again shook his head vigorously and responded, "No, you dolt." Harry had a brief notion that Sirius might fall down the stairs, but decided not to pay attention to it.

"They reached their door. "I'll show you what I mean. WE'RE HERE!" he yelled as he opened the door and slammed it behind them. Harry heard a clatter from the previously unoccupied study/junk room and out of the doorway emerged none other than Remus Lupin, whom Harry hadn't seen since his 6th year at Hogwarts.

"Go to bed you git," Remus croaked groggily, slamming the door as he ducked back inside the room.

"Hey, 's no way to speak in front of Harry, you know," Sirius called, perhaps a little too loudly.

"Harry's here?" Remus replied sheepishly, opening the door again and stepping out.

"Hi! Sirius didn't say you were coming home!" He greeted Harry and shook his hand as best as he could. Remus sighed. "Not you too…" He walked back toward his door. "Sleep it off, you idiots," he muttered as he shut his door.

"What's up his arse, it's only…" Sirius sat on the couch and looked at his watch, but collapsed sideways and fell asleep before he could announce the hour.

"3:00am," Harry finished, grinned, and went back to his room to sleep.

***

The party in the Tower 7 common room went on for quite awhile that evening, and initially, Ron was happy. Girls of all ages were eager to meet the "tall redhead that hung out with Harry Potter" and Ron would have been lying if he said that he didn't enjoy the attention. He even met up with Angelina Johnson, his former schoolmate at Hogwarts and his brother Fred's girlfriend. 

She was doing well, she said. School treated her right, and she was studying to be a medical specialist; she hoped to get a job at St. Mungo's after she graduated. They shared a few Fred stories and conversed about the successful joke shop the twins owned in Diagon Alley, and then she decided to sleep because she felt that she might be getting sick herself. He bid her goodnight, and then joined the chasers on his team in flirting with their throngs of adoring female fans. 

Ron had a pretty good time, until he saw Hermione walk in on Krum's

arm. For one second their eyes locked, and nothing else was noticeable in the noisy room. He knew that she knew what he was doing, and what she was up to was rather obvious, and for that fateful moment he almost thought he saw a look of shame in her eyes…but then the second ended, and he came crashing back to reality (and Janet and Nell), and she sat down on a couch with Viktor and a glass of spiked punch. He didn't speak to her that night, nor she to him.

***

Harry woke the next morning initially thinking that his scar hurt, but then realizing that it was just his head. He groggily looked at the clock (noon) and made his way into the kitchen for a headache healing charm, some coffee, and hopefully some breakfast.

"Well, one of them's up," Remus sighed from the table as Harry emerged from the hall.

"Morning," Harry grunted, grabbing the "Quick and Easy Healing Charms" book from the shelf. A quick look around the room told him that Remus was eating lunch and that Sirius was still out cold on the couch.

"Page 53," Remus said without looking up from his sandwich. Sure enough, page 53 bore the heading "Common Drinking Ailments and their Cures."

"Had some experience with this?" Harry asked, pulling out his wand and scanning the page for headache cures.

"A little," Remus answered, smiling and shaking his head, "A little."

"So," Harry began, pouring himself some cereal. "When did you move in?"

"About a week ago."

"I don't mean to sound rude, but why?" Harry poured milk, brought the bowl and book to the table, and sat down.

"Sirius was bored, I was lonely and low on money, so we came to this wonderful mutual arrangement."

Harry nodded and turned to the next page in the book. "Have you found another job?" Harry asked thoughtfully, looking up at his former professor.

"Not yet, I'm working on it though. Had an interview this morning…don't think it went very well," he said, answering Harry's question before he asked it. "But I'm trying, and something's bound to come up eventually."

"Yeah," Harry replied, leaning back from the book and trying to ignore his headache; the print was awfully small.

"How are you doing in school?" Remus asked.

"Pretty good. It was hard doing everything at first, you know, Quidditch and homework and all, but I'm doing alright now."

"Yeah, auror training's tough. I went through it, except they used to give it to you right on the job. You'd have to follow someone for a year and go through intense schooling before you could start work. I guess that's what you're doing now?"

"Something like that. Lots of defense against the dark arts."

"Oh, I see." Remus took a bite of his sandwich. "If you ever need help with any defense against the dark arts stuff, just owl me and I'll do anything I can."

"Heh, you'll hear from me around exam time."

Remus grinned. "Anything for you, Harry."

"Oh," Harry started suddenly; "Did Sirius tell you that Snape's the defense against the dark arts teacher?"

Remus about choked on his sandwich. 

Harry laughed and simultaneously felt triumphant as his eyes located the headache curing charm.

"How did that happen?!" Remus exclaimed, wiping his mouth.

"Rid me of this headache," Harry said, handing Remus the book, "and I'll tell you."

Remus took out his wand and muttered the incantation; however, after it had been performed Harry still felt a low, burning pain…

He suddenly turned white and clutched the front of his forehead.

"Harry?" Remus cried out, alarmed. For some mystical reason, their eyes simultaneously traveled to the kitchen counter where the unread Daily Prophet was lying, still tied from delivery. Remus walked over, picked it up, and untied it with Harry looking over his shoulder.

In the other room, Sirius Black woke with a yawn.

"Morning…hey, what's wrong?" he asked sleepily, stretching and observing the two panic-stricken faces in the kitchen, one of whom was holding his forehead. What Sirius didn't see was the headline of the paper,

**MINISTER OF MAGIC FOUND DEAD,**

and the accompanying photo of crime scene, featuring the words "The Dark Lord has Returned" scrawled on a desolate wall in the background.

See the review box below? If you review and leave your email, I'll send you an email Christmas card :)


	6. Chapter 7 and Chapter 8

A/N: Well, Merry Christmas everyone :) I hope everyone's was as good as mine. I love Harry Potter paraphonalia, even though it is overmarketed…hey, I didn't buy it, my parents did! Besides, that Quidditch card game is addicting. Anyway: Special thanks to Lupin, the coolest beta reader ever! And thanks everyone who's been reviewing. 

Amanda (Paint): Nothing especially bad happens to Krum; sorry if I mislead you on that point, but I think that you'll be semi-happy at the end of chapter 8 and that you'll like most of chapter 9.

I disclaim everything.

****

Chapter 7

Remus immediately started rummaging for a quill and parchment, but finding nothing, finally gave up and ran into his room.

"What happened?" Sirius asked again, now getting worried and beginning to sound panicked. "Harry are you — is your scar — you're not going back, you're staying here!" He rushed over to Harry and pulled a chair from the table. "Sit," he ordered. Harry ignored him, and Sirius didn't seem to notice, and began to pace and mutter to himself. "Oh my — he's — what if…" Suddenly, he stopped and proclaimed, "Dumbledore! Remus, get some parchment and a quill so we can — "

"Write a letter to Dumbledore," Remus finished, tossing Sirius a finished letter.

"Good. Where the hell is the — "

"Sid," Harry called to the curtain rod, where Sirius' owl usually was during the day. Sid flew down and allowed Sirius to attach the letter to its leg; they all watched it fly out the window and off into the distance.

"Harry, get dressed, we're going back to that school and getting your things and—"

"No, Sirius," Harry answered coldly. 

"But—"

"I'm an adult now, I can't run forever. I'm safer at the school anyway; there are teachers, and more precautions taken, and lots more qualified witches and wizards. You know that."

Sirius resignedly sat down in the chair he had ordered Harry to sit in.

"If Dumbledore says not to go back, then I won't," Harry offered, pulling out the other chair and sitting next to him.

"Oh calm down, both of you," Remus suddenly snapped. He had seemingly regained some of his composure. "Voldemort might not even be back…Harry's scar hurt before when he wasn't, remember? It's probably all propaganda, brought on by disgruntled former death eaters. The ritual probably failed."

"You're being idealistic," Sirius muttered.

"Well,even if he did come back, he'll need to regain power. Whoever the new Minister of Magic is—"

"Stephanie Mills," Harry interrupted.

"Well, she won't be able to ignore the fact that Fudge died. She's probably investigating the matter already, and there's a good chance that he'll be found soon, when he's still weak."

It was obvious that no one in the room, himself included, believed what he was saying.

***

Ron woke up that morning, rolled over, and felt another body directly next to his. _Uh oh_, he thought, quickly sitting up and trying to remember the night before, who this person was, and where he was. While the previous evening was covered in a pleasant alcohol-induced haze, he remembered meeting the person beside him (Amanda? Astrid? Alicia?), and with a deep sigh of relief realized that they were on the carpeted floor of the common room, under a blanket but surrounded by other sleeping (and fully clothed) partners.

As he contemplated standing up, he saw Hermione coming down from the girls' dorms.

"Hey," he whispered as loud as he dared and vaulted himself up. She sniffed at him and shook her head.

"Have fun last night?" she asked wryly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" They walked toward the common room door together.

"You were quite the man of the hour, if you know what I mean."

Ron concentrated hard on the night before, and vaguely recalled lots of kissing… "Huh, guess I was," he said, shrugging.

Hermione glared.

"Hey, what's wrong with that? I'm not attached to anyone," he remarked as they entered the cafeteria to get breakfast.

"Well, have you ever considered being more, I don't know, selective as to whom you give your attentions?" She tapped her plate and said "Cocoa Krispies;" she had developed a taste for the almost sickeningly sweet chocolate cereal.

"How so? Corn Flakes," Ron answered, remaining boring.

"Well, for starters, Amelia."

"Who's Amelia?" Ron questioned, shoveling some cereal into his mouth.

"The twit you were snogging before you both passed out on the floor."

_So that was her name_, Ron thought. "Yeah, what's wrong with her?" Ron asked, cautiously.

"She's my roommate, and she's an American 'ditz,' as I believe they would say. She's completely stupid and has no personality whatsoever."

Ron mumbled something about what she did have. She was a supermodel for Enchantment, the famous designer robes company, after all; he remembered that much.

"Well," Hermione snapped, "what I'm saying is that maybe you could do better than her, Janet, Nell, and Patricia, who, incidentally, are all as bad as Amelia."

_Wow, four girls_? Ron thought. _I'll have to tell Harry_. "I think I did pretty well," Ron said, wiping his mouth on his napkin. Hermione sighed huffily and quickly tapped her dish, pushed out her chair, and stomped toward the door.

"'Ey, 'Ermione," Ron called through a full mouth, but she was already gone.

***

"Hi Ron, Hermione," Harry said as he entered the common room later that evening, noting uneasily that they were sitting on complete opposite sides of the room. Hermione and Ron both walked over hurriedly to meet him, and spoke at the same time.

"Are you alright? Voldemort's probably back, you know. Does your scar hurt?" Hermione asked, concerned.

"Harry, guess what! At the party after the Quidditch game I hooked up with four extremely fine women," Ron proudly announced.

There was a short pause as they all took in what had been said.

"What?!" Ron exclaimed suddenly, turning toward Hermione.

"You heard me," she mumbled.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?" Ron yelled, furious. Hermione just stared coldly at him; Harry, meanwhile, sighed, sensing that it was going to be a long night.

"Yes, Ron, Hermione's right. And yes, Hermione, my scar did hurt…you should have seen Sirius, he threw a fit. I'm lucky Remus was there, he had to force him to let me go back to school."

"Remus? Remus Lupin?" Hermione interrupted.

"Yeah, he's living with us now."

"Weird," Ron commented, the look of anxiety remaining on his face from the previous shocking announcement.

"You'd better be careful, Harry," Hermione advised. "You know he'll be after you again…Did you owl Dumbledore?"

They all sat down on a couch, disagreements and arguments forgotten for the moment.

"Yeah, hopefully he'll write back by tomorrow…"

Ron suddenly stood up, muttering something about owling his family to make sure that they were all right, and left.

Harry and Hermione went to bed shortly thereafter.

***Part 2***

Ron closed his eyes as he felt the familiar jerk in his stomach that told him the portkey destined for London was moving. He wished that he had passed his apparation test when he had taken it over the summer; his father had trained him whenever he could, but Ron just hadn't caught on quick enough for the scheduled test. In short, he had ended up lost and scared in the United States, thousands of miles from where he was supposed to be. He had stood in the middle of the busy New York City sidewalk he had landed in until someone from the ministry was able to retrieve him. It was obvious even to him that he hadn't passed the test.

When he landed he stood up and immediately thought of moving toward home, but was stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. _Of course_, he remembered; there were other people going to London on the portkey.

"See you after Christmas, Ron," said Bridget, his current/former girlfriend of the week. Ron brought on a forced smile and told her goodbye and likewise, though they both knew that wasn't likely to happen. Ron mounted his broom, flung Harry's invisibility cloak over himself and the Firebolt, and took off for home.

It's not that he didn't miss The Burrow. He did. He just dreaded going back because of what he might find. The fear he had felt when Hermione so delicately revealed Voldemort's return only magnified as the Daily Prophet began reporting deaths accompanied by the Dark Mark. He tried to forget this as the cold wind blew against the cloak, but the dread still remained. 

__

Nothing helps, he lamented, and it was true. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that his friends and family were all in danger. He had trouble sleeping at night, and woke each morning filled with dread; he usually spent the rest of the day doing stupid things, like going through girlfriend after girlfriend, to try and keep his mind off of his fear. It was true that he had become quite sought after, but fortunately many of the witches he dated had a short attention span. He had tried to talk with Harry and Hermione about his worries, but all they had told him was not to worry. Ron privately felt that neither of them knew what he was talking about; neither of them had lost a close family member or friend (besides Harry, and even though Harry had lost his parents he didn't remember it). They didn't know what it was like to lose someone you loved…

Ron started as a bird almost flew into him and he was forced to take evasive action. As he dove, he noted that he was directly over Ottery St. Catchpole and that The Burrow was in sight. With a sigh of relief, he took in the view of his home (that, incidentally, had no trace of the Dark Mark anywhere near it) and noted how deceptively quiet it seemed from above. Fred and George were there, he thought, bugging Ginny or something. Percy was in his "office," refusing to put the Ministry on hold during his vacation and losing the argument taking place with his mother to go downstairs and be a member of the family. Bill was watching Fred, George, and Ginny go at it; he could be helping Ginny, or maybe he was conversing with Percy, who could have lost the fight by then. Despite the fang earring, the two of them got on well. 

It was still too early for his father to be home yet, but his mother was definitely cooking dinner; he could almost smell it. Ron would be the last to get home, since everyone else had arrived two days before. He hoped she was making his favorite, chicken and potatoes.

***

Harry eagerly read his owl from Ron to discover that things were going fine at the Weasleys; he admitted that things were definitely different without Charlie, but maintained that everyone was doing as well as could be expected. Harry sighed and looked at the ceiling, almost wishing that he were at The Burrow. He hoped everyone, especially Mrs. Weasley, was doing as well as Ron said they were. At the moment Harry was in his room, sitting on his bed and repeatedly throwing a random Muggle baseball at the wall to let off steam; he and Sirius had just had their first argument, and it had been, well, a "doozy" to say the least.

Harry had wanted to go for a walk, but Sirius had refused him leave from the flat without him, saying that it wasn't safe. Harry, used to being able to do what he wanted, had gotten upset. They had gone on for about 10 minutes, getting progressively louder and meaner, until Harry had said something very harsh and unnecessary that he had instantly regretted. Remus, of course, had chosen that moment to walk through the door (fresh from another failed job interview) and Harry had stomped off to his room, more than a little ashamed. He was a smart boy and knew that he would eventually have to apologize, but it would take time and he was working up the nerve to do so. There was a knock at his door.

"Come in," he called glumly, throwing the ball especially hard. The door opened and Remus entered, eyes weary. The full moon had ended the day before, and he was still showing the effects. As he opened his mouth, Harry sighed and cut him off with, "I know, I was horrible back there and that I need to go apologize."

"Good, at least you're smart enough to know that. That was, to put it blatantly, a stupid thing to say," Remus replied.

"I know, I know…wait, how's he taking it? He's not…"

"He's very, very upset, if that's what you mean."

Harry gritted his teeth and threw the ball so hard that he was sure the wall would have cracked had he not had the foresight to cast an unbreakable charm beforehand. "I didn't mean it," he muttered, looking quite close to tears.

"Well, he's thought what you said many times himself. Do you think he doesn't regret his actions or the time he spent away from you while you were at the Dursleys?"

Harry shuddered at the mention of the name. "It wasn't his fault, it was those idiots who wouldn't believe us."

"You know he still blames himself."

Harry was silent, and stopped bouncing the ball.

"I think the sooner you apologize to him, the better. It is Christmas Eve, after all."

Harry stared at the snow falling on the windowsill. "Fine," he finally said after a minute. Remus held the door open for him, and Harry timorously made his way out into the kitchen to where Sirius was sitting, elbows on the table, hands shielding his eyes. Harry, not sure of how to begin, pulled out a chair and sat down. The noise of the chair scratching across the floor was much louder than would have liked; it disturbed the silence, but still didn't cause Sirius to look up or even make any sign of acknowledgement that Harry was there at all. After two minutes and 31 seconds of stillness, Harry finally spoke.

"I'm sorry, Sirius," he began quietly, though it sounded louder due to the utter stillness of the room. "I—I didn't mean anything I said earlier. I was mad and stupid, and I'm really, really sorry."

Sirius took a breath and looked up, eyes still filled with hurt, but he forced a smile and said, "I already forgave you…don't worry about it."

Harry knew Sirius was lying, and even if he had forgiven him he was going to worry about it for awhile. "I mean it, Sirius…I'm really, really, really, really, really—"

"The biggest git that ever walked the earth, I know," Sirius deadpanned, leaning across the table to mess up Harry's already untidy hair. Harry felt a little better after that; maybe things would be all right after all. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go check on the chicken, make a salad, and start on the potatoes, which, incidentally, you are going to wash and peel."

Harry snorted and shook his head as they both pushed out their chairs and moved over to the counters. "You sound like a housewife," he teasingly remarked.

"Makes the ladies crazy," Sirius answered, tossing Harry a bag of potatoes that was, Harry noted as he caught it and was thrown back against the counter, heavier than it looked.

"What ladies? I haven't even seen you with one la_dy_, let alone more than one, which would constitute the use of a plural," Harry grunted, righting himself and dropping the bag on the counter.

"No more dime words or I'll make you peel them the Muggle way."

"Yes, Master Snuffles, forgive me for disrespecting you—" Harry laughed as he was splashed with water from the sink, and ducked out of the way of the next attack.

"No more from you. And for your information, there _is_ a lady in the picture."

Harry smiled as he saw Sirius gain some color in his cheeks. "Let me guess. It's my Quidditch coach. Ever since your one fateful meeting you have been exchanging secret love notes, but she wouldn't agree to date you because she's my coach, but then you finally got her to cave, and now you have a romantic and cheesy dinner date all planned out in your painstakingly anal way?" Harry teased, pleased with his fabrication until he saw Sirius redden more. "You mean..." Harry's mouth dropped open as his godfather began to laugh.

***

"Please pass the potatoes, Hermione," Mrs. McGreggor asked sweetly. Hermione forced a smile and obliged, wishing her parents had allowed her to accept Ron's invitation to spend Christmas at The Burrow. However, they had told her that they rather liked having her around for the holidays and that she must come home.

Hermione loved her parents and didn't mind their company one bit; they always enjoyed hearing about her school and learning little things about the wizarding world and how it operated. In fact, it had been even more enjoyable since she graduated from Hogwarts due to the fact that she was a licensed witch and could demonstrate what she had been describing all through the years. No, she loved coming home, save two things: having to pretend in front of most of her extended family (besides her grandparents and her favorite aunt, but that was all that the Ministry had allowed), and dinner with the McGreggors. 

The McGreggors had a son Hermione's age whom she had gone to grade school with; they had hated each other then and the feeling had not decreased as they gained in years. They were both bright - him less so than Hermione but he had been far more popular and therefore everyone had thought him the more intelligent one. Despite the objections of their children, the McGreggors and the Grangers were partners in the same dental firm and maintained a semblance of friendship; however, as of late the "friendship" had become more of a "my kid's better than your kid" contest.

"Sean loves it at Oxford, don't you Sean?" Mrs. McGreggor began to brag as she spooned herself some potatoes. "He's the top of his class and the president of the Science Club—only a freshman at that!" She looked toward Mrs. Granger as she chewed. Hermione glumly pushed her food around on her plate. When she looked up, she saw Sean giving her the most contorted, disturbing smile she had ever seen, and quickly looked down again to her chicken and potatoes. She was interested to see how her mom would get out of this one, and wished that her parents wouldn't invite them over when she was home.

"Well, as you know, Hermione is doing simply extraordinarily at Yale. She was even picked to research a cure for a deadly disease on a special research team normally only open to sophomores and above—as a freshman, nonetheless."

Hermione cringed, and took a bite of chicken.

"What have you been doing with the project, Hermione?" Mrs. McGreggor asked.

"Well," she began, trying to ignore the continued silent harassment from Sean, "I'm not really at liberty to discuss it. It's confidential, you know." She turned toward her mother with a quick, pleading look. Thankfully, she got the hint.

"Are you feeling alright, Hermione?" she asked pointedly.

"Not really, now that you mention it. Would it be alright if I went to bed?"

"Yes, of course 'Mi," her father interjected, looking worried.

Relieved, she stood up. "Goodnight, then, good seeing you all again," she said, and hurried from the room as fast as she could without seeming obvious.

She landed on her bed without ladylike regard, took a quill and parchment from a drawer in her bedside table, and began to write her Christmas letters.

Dear Viktor,

I miss you so much. Sorry we couldn't spend Christmas together, it would have been fun. I'm so glad you're coming to visit for a week before we go back to school. I hope you like your gift, I think of you often and always—

Love, Hermione

She attached Viktor's letter to the multi-functional watch she had bought him (it told the time, but could switch functions to show the positions of the planets, phase of the moon, locations of people that the wearer chose, a compass, and Quidditch scores). For a second, she wondered if the letter had been too easy to write, but she shrugged it off and moved on to Harry's letter.

Dear Harry,

I'm going crazy! My parents' friends are here and their son is just awful. My mum is making up stories about where I go to school and I hate playing along. Anyway, I almost feel like you at the Dursleys, stuck with some of the biggest Muggles on the planet. At least mum and dad don't show me around like some prize cow (not too often, anyway) like the McGreggors do with their horrible son. Blech.

How are Sirius and Remus? I'm glad that you finally have the home you deserve, Harry. You're just about one of the best friend I've ever had, and I love you (platonically, of course). Hope you like the gift!

Love, Hermione.

She smiled as she taped the letter to the gift she had bought him from Diagon Alley earlier that week: a Wizard Radio that could be attached to a broom for lengthy flights (or just during a casual Quidditch practice). She glanced at Ringo, her owl, fearing he wouldn't be up to a long trip with lots of packages, but noted with delight that Ringo was practically hopping in anticipation of leaving. She smiled (Christmas presents always made Hermione happy for some reason), and continued writing letters and attaching them to gifts. She finished Hagrid's, Professor McGonagall's (they were keeping in touch), Professor Dumbledore's (she had written to tell him of her position involving the anti-Avada Kedavra spell, and they had kept the correspondence going; she had, on Harry's suggestion, bought him a nice pair of socks), one of her friends from school, and finally there was only one letter left to write and one gift left in the pile.

Dear Ron,

Hi, I hope everything's alright at your house and that everyone's having a good Christmas. How are Ginny, Bill, Fred, and George?

Listen Ron, I know we've been fighting with each other every other second, and that I haven't talked with you for more than five minutes for over a month, or even seen you for over five minutes for a month. I just want to say that I don't like it either, and I'm sorry. I really miss you; we were really close in our last year at Hogwarts, and I feel like we've lost that. It's not always your fault that we fight; I've brought on some of it as well. I'm sorry for doing that. I hope we can be better friends again back at school; please forgive me for my lack of time, and please forgive me for anything mean I said to you in general. I hope you'll write back and ask the same of me.

Love, Hermione

She had barely finished signing it when she suddenly crumpled it up and threw it across the room.

"Stupid prat would never let me live that one down," she muttered as she started a new letter.

Dear Ron,

Merry Christmas! Hope you and your family are well. I miss you and Harry, and wish that I could spend Christmas with you, but you know, parents. I'll see you back in school.

Love, Hermione

She signed as she taped the letter to a box containing his present, an amulet that she bought in a charm store in Diagon Alley; the witch who ran the shop had told her it helped guide the wearer down the road to true happiness_. Ron could use that about now_, she thought as she tied the presents into a sort of ladder structure to make them easier for her owl to carry. She was glad that she had bought the largest owl in the shop; she had immediately taken a liking to its odd feather "style." Ron had told her that between the owl and Crookshanks she was becoming the owner of an ugly animal sanctuary. He had also made fun of the name Ringo; "Who the hell is named Ringo?" he had asked. She, as usual, hadn't commented.

"Bye Ringo, thank you," she said, tying the package to his legs, kissing his head, and giving him an owl treat for the road. He hooted appreciatively and was off. 

Hermione sat on her bed and wished for life to be simple.

***Part 3***

"Good work, Granger," Professor Yang commented from over Hermione's shoulder. She was one of the ones trying to re-map Avada Kedavra, and it was very slow, very hard, and very tedious work. The shield charm the group had been inventing was running into difficulties; it currently wouldn't hold up to anything stronger than the jelly-legs curse, and every time they prodded with the formula it would become weaker instead of stronger.

Work had proceeded with more of an urgency since Voldemort's return. Hermione had been excused from all of her classes in order to continue with her work, but still kept up with her homework. Ministries from many different countries were offering grants to allow the group more supplies and speed things along. Needless to say, Hermione had had a lot on her mind. She had been working more than not, and even her relationship with Viktor had become more strained lately. She would still see him after the typical school day ended, but the project continuously weighed on her mind. 

And then there was Harry. Harry had been trying to seem normal, but Hermione could tell that he was very worried. He had been writing to Sirius at least once every two days, and going home every other weekend regardless of whether there was a Quidditch match or not. Socializing had taken the backseat while his studies and Quidditch (but especially his studies) had taken the front; she theorized that he felt learning as much as possible about self-defense would be advantageous, and she had to agree with him. Despite this, it was hard for her when a good portion of the time she spent with him was spent watching him silently stare into the couch and forgetting to answer her feeble attempts at conversation.

Ron continued to make her mad. One minute he was nice; the next he was moody and sullen. His mood swings vaguely reminded her of those of her pregnant cousin, who had visited her over the Christmas break. When she had told him this, he had muttered something that she was glad she didn't hear and stormed away. What was going on with him? At that point she didn't want to associate with him or think about him…he was too much trouble and he clouded her mind. He was getting in the way of her work. 

Work, and work and work…. She knew that the weight of the world did not lie on her shoulders, but she couldn't help but feel like it with the way teachers were pressuring her. It was obvious to her that she was expected to do extremely well; as a first year student on a traditionally third year project, she had to earn her keep and do it well. Her eyes began to scan the five parchments that she had spent the past six hours working on; the purple ink shone in the light, and everything looked perfect until she got to the top of the second page. She found that she had made an elementary addition error (according to the parchment, 2+3=6), and everything she had done from that page onward was incorrect and had to be redrawn. She suddenly flung her quill down in disgust and threw her head into her arms on the table, and tried not to cry.

Professor Yang looked up, startled, from across the table. "Hermione?" she asked delicately. Hermione sniffed in her continuing and unsuccessful effort against tears and looked up, wiping her eyes.

"Why don't you call it a day, and I think maybe take a few off…you've been working too hard." 

Hermione groaned and put her head back into her arms. _That's it; I've failed, I'm done_.

"No no, I didn't mean it in a bad way," she expressed quickly, moving to her side. "You work about the hardest out of everyone here; you've learned as much as a third year student knows in four months' time, and you need a rest." 

Hermione broke down into a full-fledged sob.

"Shh, come on, let's go." Her professor led her out the door and into the empty hall. "You going to be alright?" she asked soothingly, guiding her toward her tower. 

Hermione swallowed, nodded, and began to apologize profusely as they walked.

"Don't worry hon, rest up and sort everything out, and don't think about anything here, alright?"

Hermione thanked her and entered her common room, eyes still overflowing with tears. Ron was sitting on a couch reading a book when he saw her hurrying toward her dorm. He looked up as she walked by.

"Hey! Hermione! Wait!" he called. She avoided him and increased her speed, but she wasn't fast enough; he managed to grab her arm and stop her. "What's wrong?" he asked, very concerned and more than a little frightened as Hermione wasn't the type to cry unless there was a very good reason. She wasn't able to speak, just to cry. Ron didn't know what to say, so he did all he could.

"I—I'm sorry about what I said this morning, if that's any help. Really," he tried, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Please, what's wrong?" She continued to shake from her sobs. Finally, he hugged her in desperation, though she failed to react to his action in any way.

"Hermoninny?!" Viktor Krum cried from the entrance. Though he had eventually learned to pronounce her name correctly, he tended to lapse back to the old way when he was distressed. Ron let go of Krum's girlfriend and watched as they embraced; with unease he noticed that his hug was returned. He wondered vaguely why Viktor was in that tower when his girlfriend had work all day, but pushed the thought out of his mind and, though it killed him to do so, took his book upstairs to give them some privacy.

A few hours later Harry reentered the dorm laden with books and parchment. Harry's advanced defense against the dark arts class required a great degree of memorization; when in the field, aurors do not have books (or the time to use them if for some reason they do). He hadn't had a break since Christmas with Sirius and Remus; as he thought wistfully back to that time, he was happy with the fact that he finally enjoyed being home just as much as, if not more than, being in school.

Voldemort remained dormant, which did not mean that Harry didn't worry about him; he did, and quite often.

And then there was Michele. Ah yes, Michele…. The incident in the dungeon had not been mentioned (or repeated) again. He had tried to both bring it up and ask her out several times, but she had nervously changed the subject without giving him a straight answer. Despite this, they had undeniably grown closer, and Harry wished that it meant what he hoped it meant and that "the incident" was not a mere fluke where two people were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Hey Ron, Quidditch game tomorrow, Tower 1," Harry announced gleefully as he threw his things on the floor.

Ron grunted, lost in thought.

"You know, Krum's tower," Harry continued, intentionally using Krum's name to provoke some sort of reaction from his moody friend.

"So?" Ron snapped. Harry knew enough by now to disregard his tone, especially since he had brought it on with his attempt to ground his friend's thoughts.

"Where is Hermione anyway?" Harry asked. "Usually I see her coming back from wherever she works all day on my way back here."

"Something's wrong with her," he muttered in reply.

"What?" Harry questioned, concerned.

"Don't know…she was crying. I'm a bit worried; she wouldn't talk. Krum came and took control of the situation, so I left."

Harry thoughtfully sat on his bed. "I think we should go see what was wrong, it could be serious."

"Well, it could also be some sort of girl thing, and in that case I don't want to know."

"You just don't want to find her up there with Krum."

Harry had said the magic words; in a matter of seconds, they were on their way up to room 704 with Ron in the lead. He knocked tentatively, almost as if having second thoughts, but was soon granted a muffled "Come in" from inside.

By then, Hermione had stopped crying, but her eyes were still red and she still looked worse for wear.

Ron absolutely melted at the sight of her and immediately went to sit next to her on her bed.

"You alright? What happened? You had me so worried—"

"Nothing, Ron," Hermione interrupted, swallowing some more tears as Ron put his hand on her shoulder. "I just had a sort of nervous breakdown, that's all…I'm sorry you had to see it, I—"

"Shh, don't worry," Ron interrupted, taking her hands. "Are you alright?" he asked again, obviously not satisfied with the last answer she had given him.

"I…well…" Hermione seemed to be searching for the words she wanted to say. "No…yes—yes, I'm fine. I'm going to be fine." She closed her eyes and opened them with a more resolute look in place. "Just under stress, that's all. I'll be fine."

"You sure?" Harry asked from the doorway, moving to where his friends were and sitting on the other side of Hermione.

"Yes, I'm—I'm alright," she sighed, and flopped backwards. "I was just thinking too much."

"Finally realized it, eh?" Ron asked, falling backward as well, and turning his head to look at her.

"Shut up you prat, I'm worried sick about Voldemort."

Ron was silent for this comment, and didn't even make his usual "You-Know-Who" correction. Harry decided to speak and flopped backward with the other two.

"No use in worrying so much Hermione. You know that."

"You should talk; don't think I don't see it, Harry," she replied. They all stared at the ceiling for a contemplative few minutes.

"Doesn't help with this idiot next to me fighting with me all the time either," Hermione shot, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

"Well, Harry I think you'd better apologize now, shouldn't you?" Ron announced authoritatively, sitting up and looking at Harry. Hermione grinned and hit him with a pillow.

"'Ey!" Ron cried. "What was that for?" Hermione just stared at the ceiling again and continued to smile.

***

Harry paced around the locker room with his broom, trying to calm down. After all, it was just another Quidditch game, just another leisurely flight on his broom. It was just a match that happened to pit him against Viktor Krum, one of the best seekers in the wizarding world. It was just a match against a team that hadn't lost a game that would probably determine if they won the school cup or not. Harry suddenly dunked his head, glasses and all, into the sink and turned on the cold water in an effort to calm his nerves. It didn't work, unfortunately; all it did was make him cold and wet. He shook himself off and began to pace again, dripping a little on the floor.

"Ready, Harry?" Ron called, sticking his head around the corner of the doorway. "We're about…where have you been?"

"The sink. Don't ask."

"Nervous?" Ron joked.

"Shut up," Harry muttered, obviously not in the mood. As he walked onto the field, he saw Sirius sitting in his usual place next to Hermione. He observed Michele a few rows down…maybe if he caught the snitch she would finally accept his invitation to the movies? He came back down to earth when he heard the announcer clear her throat. Harry smiled when he realized that it was Angelina.

"Hello, welcome to Wizard University Quidditch!" The crowd cheered. "This week's match will pit Tower 1 against Tower 7! I'm Angelina Johnson; I'll be announcing this week instead of Emmett Jeter, who has a nasty cold. Anyway, this week's match looks to be very intense. So far they have been deemed the two best teams in the school; neither has lost, and neither is projected to lose any other games this year. This could decide the championship! And now…Tower 1! I give you Smith, Jolie, Irving, Austin, Prine, Wells, and Krum!" The crowd roared as they took their lap around the stadium. "And now, Tower 7! Here are Weasley, Sawyer, Finn, Svening, Wilson, Bennett, and Potter!" She cheered along with the crowd, forgetting for a moment her amplified voice. "Anyway," she giggled sheepishly. "Sorry about that, used to be on a team with Ron and Harry back at Hogwarts. Won the cup twice! But anyway, let the game begin!"

And it did. Harry vividly remembered the numerous strategy talks he had been given by Madame Jennings; he had been told to watch Viktor Krum like a hawk, almost to the point where he would be following him. Though she had said that she had no doubts in Harry's seeking skills, Viktor had more experience and they couldn't lose this game if they wanted to win the cup. Harry tried not to tail Viktor too obviously, and darted his eyes around nervously in search of the snitch. With a bit of a laugh he noticed that Viktor was tailing him slightly as well. This would be interesting.

Harry watched from above as his team scored four times, earning them 40 points. The chasers were in top form, along with Ron, who so far hadn't let any by.

Suddenly, Viktor dove, and Harry immediately dove with him. Halfway to the ground he could not see the snitch anywhere, and realized that it was probably the Wronski Feint. He took a chance and pulled out.

"Viktor Krum's Wronski Feint has failed! Potter saw through it and has gone back to circling the field."

Harry nodded in Angelina's direction, and she waved.

The game went on, and still the snitch was nowhere in sight. Harry was beginning to lose his nerve. He had to catch it; the team depended on it, his honor depended on it, he was almost sure that Michele depended on it…then, on the other side of the filed, he saw a flash of gold and was off.

With a sickening gasp he realized that Viktor had seen it too, and was ahead of him by about 20 feet. Normally this wouldn't have been a problem, as Harry usually had a better broom than whomever he was up against and therefore could go faster than his opponent; however, like him, Viktor had a Lightningbolt and they were going at virtually the same speed. Harry felt a sickening feeling begin to form in the pit of his stomach; he couldn't lose, but he was going to, there was no way he could catch up to Viktor...then, as if the Lord had graced his mind, he had an idea. He tipped his broom so that it was tilted in a downward slope.

"What's Potter doing? He's going down!" he thought he heard Angelina shout. As Harry planned/prayed, his broom quickly gained on Krum's. Like most objects, magical or not, brooms travel faster when working with gravity. Harry pushed as hard as he could, and soon he was five feet under Krum and directly even with him, then six feet under and slightly ahead…

"He's going to miss it! He's way too low! Krum's going to get it!" Angelina yelled.

The snitch was dangerously close, and Harry knew it was time. He jerked his broom to a straight upward incline, cut in front of Viktor, extended his arm, felt the merciful struggle of the snitch, went (upside-downwardly) over Viktor Krum, and turned himself right-side up, thrusting the fist holding the snitch victoriously over his head.

First there was silence. Harry could hear himself panting, and pushed his sliding glasses back into their proper place on his nose. Then, suddenly, there was a deafening roar, and over it he could hear,

"POTTER HAS THE SNITCH! FINAL SCORE IS 220-50; THE MATCH GOES TO TOWER 7!"

Harry looked behind him to see a stunned Viktor Krum staring at him, mouth open in disbelief. As he landed, he could make out some of the crowd leaving the stands and entering the field, all still cheering. Sirius reached him first and gave him a huge smack on the back, telling him how amazing he was at Quidditch and how proud he was. Hermione, to Harry's immense surprise, gave him an all-out kiss and then told him that she was sorry but she had to leave him and go comfort Viktor. By then, Harry was getting congratulated by all of Tower 7.

Then, there was Michele. When he saw her run over to him, the noise in the stadium seemed to stop and he could hear only her angelic French voice.

"'Arry Potter," she began, shaking her smiling head, "You are amazing! And yes, I will go to ze movies wis you." Then she took his face in her hands and gave him a very long kiss, which Harry had to remind himself to return due to the fact that he was so blissfully happy.

***

"Good, Potter, you've improved. For homework, I want an essay detailing how you would react if you were cornered in dragon nesting grounds. It's due tomorrow, no exceptions. Good day everyone." Serveus Snape watched as his students packed their things and smiled his traditional oily smile. He truly loved his new job. Dumbledore had begged him to stay, but he felt that it was time to move on, and the headmaster had understood. As a result, he had finally gotten to do what he had always wanted, and felt that the students really connected with him and his subject. Basically, he had rediscovered the joy of teaching.

He even had his old favorite from Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy. The boy had been going through hard times with the arrests of his parents because of connections with Voldemort, and Serveus had been trying to help him as best as he could. He didn't know if he was making a difference, but he was trying. He had even managed to reconcile with Potter, Weasley, and Granger, though he almost didn't go through with it when he heard one of them insulting him on the first day. Still, they had been less bothersome than they could have been, and they had all been doing well. He even admitted to himself, albeit grudgingly, that Potter would make an excellent auror.

_Yes_, he thought as he made his way to the portkey room, _I could use a drink_. He decided to go to St. Quili, a village similar to Hogsmeade with a pub that rivaled even The Leaky Cauldron. He bid hello to students and teachers he met while walking down the hall, already tasting his Grindylow Surprise. The portkey room was mercifully empty, and he was soon at his destination and tasting the drink that he had fantasized about for real. What Snape did not notice as he conversed with the bartender and the person next to him was a hooded figure sitting unassumingly near the back. The night wore on, and so did both Serveus and the hooded man; when the former finally declared that he had better get back, he paid and went for the door.

He had begun to say the apparation spell when the door of the bar opened again. Snape looked up and immediately reached for his wand; however, it was in vain, for the man was ready and had whispered a dreaded word before Snape had time to do anything other than think.

20 minutes later, Serveus Snape was back in the halls of the school, again greeting teachers and students alike, but this time forced to ignore the tiny presence in his mind that fought to regain control.

****

Chapter 8

Ron walked into his dorm room and blatantly ignored the PG-13 spectacle that was occurring on Harry's bed. As Harry and Michele struggled to sit up and untangle their limbs, Harry blushing all the while, Ron threw his books onto the floor and sat down on his bed with the force of a collapsing elephant. He looked upon the formerly passionate couple with scorn.

"Oh, don't mind me," he snapped sarcastically. "Carry on." He looked as if he were about to explode. "Why the hell can't you ever do that in HER dorm?" Ron asked meanly. He still didn't like Michele, and she still didn't like him.

"Fous le camp, leche-cul," she mumbled as she pulled Harry back down for another make-out session, public this time, just to piss Ron off. Ron noted that Harry had no objections.

"Should I get a picture? That way you can watch yourselves go at it later."

At this, Michele abruptly bid Harry goodbye and stormed out of the room. Harry stifled a laugh and addressed his steaming friend.

"Geez, you didn't have to do that you know."

"Potter, your girlfriend's a bi—"

"'Ey," Harry stopped him, a little upset. "That's not very nice, Ron."

Ron continued to glare at the wall, and replied, "Neither is she."

"What's up your arse?" Harry asked, leaning back against his pillows and staring out the window.

"Her-frickin-mione and her," he put on a high, mocking voice, "Oh, I'm better and more important than you are, my boyfriend is a professional Quidditch player, I'm smart, I'm busy, I don't have time for you, blah blah blah. She is so…augh!" Ron spit.

Harry sincerely doubted that this was the case, but as usual did not say anything to provoke his hot-tempered friend. Unfortunately, this resulted in a lengthy period of time spent listening to Ron grumble. Harry tried to pull himself through by starting on his homework and dreaming about Michele; however, both were difficult to do, for whenever he got to a crucial point in either his homework or his daydream Ron would increase his volume and jar Harry out of his other world. Harry got a little frustrated after the sixth time this happened, and finally rolled over, grabbed his broom, and threw it at Ron. Ron stopped in mid-complaint and caught it, looking questioningly at Harry.

"Take a ride and cool off," Harry muttered. Ron looked a little offended, but it was a Lightningbolt, after all…he opened the window and left, grumbling all the way. Harry, meanwhile, was getting bored with his homework and didn't want to fantasize too much about his girlfriend for fear of jinxing it from ever happening, and decided to go for a walk.

As soon as he turned out the door he felt a pair of arms glide themselves around his shoulders, and a breathy voice whispered into his ear,

"I knew you'd be out 'ere sometime." Harry gleefully allowed himself to be steered back into his dorm room, where they resumed what they had been doing earlier until Harry woefully interjected and said that they should probably leave. Ron would be returning soon, and although they weren't doing anything that required a locked door Harry didn't think that Ron would appreciate finding them there for the second time in an hour.

On his suggestion, they took a walk, his arm around her shoulders and her head resting near his neck. Progress was slow, but neither of them minded.

"'Ave you 'eard about ze test in Advanced Defense Against ze Dark Arts?" Michele asked.

"Yeah, I heard Joe talking about it; he said he heard Snape talking to a teacher. We're going to be put in a real field battle against some monsters, no help, no lightened consequences, unless it's obvious we're about to be killed and then Snape will save us…but I doubt that."

Michele laughed. "Why do you say zat?"

"Well," Harry began, "I know I told you he was the potions master at Hogwarts."

Michele nodded.

"He hated Ron, Hermione, and basically anyone in Gryffindor, but especially us."

"I can see why 'e 'ated your stupid red-'eaded idiot of a friend."

"Michele, that's not the point. He called a ceasefire of sorts earlier this year, because he said he wanted to get off to a good start, but I still don't trust him."

Michele just sighed.

"You know Draco Malfoy?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Michele answered quickly.

"He favored Draco…still does, but you know."

Michele didn't answer, and they walked in silence for awhile. Harry thought curiously about his second arch nemesis; he hadn't heard so much as a peep from him since the first Quidditch match, and he had even been silent then…something was up, Harry decided, but he would not pursue the situation; he was enjoying the silence too much. By that time they had walked around the small park behind the castle and were nearing the doorway.

"What are you doing tonight?" Harry whispered.

"'Omework, I 'ave a paper due on Monday."

"Oh, okay," Harry resigned, a little upset that they couldn't go out."I will see you later, 'Arry," Michele mumbled, kissing him deeply before she walked down the hallway, leaving Harry looking longingly after her until she disappeared around the corner.

When Harry got back to the common room he saw Ron, still fuming from before, sitting on a couch. _Great_, Harry thought.

"How was your ride?" he asked, sitting down next to him.

"How was yours?" Ron shot back.

Harry whistled. "Uncalled for," he replied, leaning back and starting to relax.

Ron swore at him and remained upright.

"So, what's up your arse now?" Harry inquired, waving at a few people. 

Ron ignored both his exiting friends and Harry's question, but he unintentionally answered with his next statement. "Where the hell is she?" he growled.

Harry knew he needed not ask whom the pronoun "she" was referring to, and closed his eyes in anticipation of the oncoming vocal attack.

"What the hell is taking her so long?"

"She couldn't possibly have been gone for more than an hour, Ron, and it's not like you had plans with her."

Ron continued to fume, and began to fidget with his wand. "How do you know?" Sparks soon began to fly from its tip, and Harry had to jump to avoid some that singed the couch in place of where his head had been resting. Ron furiously shoved the wand back into his robes and spat, "What the hell is she doing?"

"Probably the same thing she was doing when you asked where she was 30 seconds ago," Harry muttered, hoping that Ron's wand would stay where it was. Harry's wish was answered, and Ron got up and began to pace. After going back and forth twice, he sputtered,

"If she takes one more minute, I'm going to—"

"Do you have to get like this every time she goes on a date with Krum?" Harry finally growled.

Ron plopped back onto the couch and glared. Harry began to wish that he had brought something to do; Ron was not the best company at the moment.

"Her and Krumikins make me sick," Ron began again.

Harry sighed and dropped his head back to its position of exasperation. "I know, Ron."

Ron made a face and resumed the mocking voice he had donned earlier. "'Oh, today I have a date with _Viktor_, he's so cute, and his accent is so dreamy…'"

__

Hermione has never said anything like that in her life, Harry thought.

"'Sorry Ron and Harry, but I'll shove you both on the back burner while I deal with more important things, like determining the exact angle of my darling Krummy's nose.'"

"Ron."

"'And after that, sorry boys but I have my _research _to do, and then it's on to my darling Krummy's ears.'"

"Ron."

"'I even wrote a pretty little song about him: _Oh, my darling Krummy, you look just like a bunny_—"

"RON! ENOUGH!" Harry finally hollered. A few people from the next couch laughed and applauded. Ron ignored them and his glare increased as he began to glower into the fireplace. Harry suddenly saw a flash of blonde hope at the door, and gave Ron a meaningful poke."

"Look Ron, it's _Amelia_," he said pointedly, trying to draw his attention to another subject." Amelia and Ron had been on-and-off for most of the year, mostly "on" right after Quidditch games. Ron didn't seem to mind, and they seemed to have a mutually beneficial arrangement. However, at the moment even Amelia couldn't draw Ron's attention away from his absent friend.

"Hi-Joe-hi-Sean-hi-Luc-hi-Harry-_hey_, Ron," Amelia rattled off, sliding in between Harry and Ron. Harry didn't mind; he'd had more than enough of Ron's whining to last him a few hours.

Ron grunted in reply.

"You doing anything tonight?" Amelia asked, tracing her finger on Ron's shoulder.

Ron grunted again. She gave him very calculated puppy eyes, but he didn't seem to notice. She stuck out her lower lip, but met with more indifference.

"Amelia, come here!" one of her friends called. She gave Ron one last look and left, a little disappointed that her conquest for the evening was unsuccessful.

"What's your problem?" Harry finally shot, though he knew. Ron grunted again. Harry's head fell back into his hands.

People were fast leaving the common room to go out, and before Harry knew it he and Ron were the only ones left. Eventually, with a lot of work, he was finally successful in forcing Ron to talk about something besides Hermione (Quidditch), and was working on coaxing him out of the castle for a drink when Hermione herself walked in. She was looking a little flushed and seemed to be in a hurry to get to her bedroom.

She had opened her mouth to speak when Ron muttered, "About fucking time." Hermione stopped, looked harshly at him, and asked,

"What did you say?"

Ron, although pissed, obviously did not mean for her to hear him.

"Nothing important…according to you, we aren't important, after all," he mumbled. 

Harry was beginning to get a bit uncomfortable, and began edging toward the far end of the couch.

Hermione, knowing exactly what he meant, dangerously asked, "Just what do you mean by that?"

"Well, you never spend any time with me — us, anymore. Just Krum, research, Krum, research, Krum, research, Krum…you obsess over him so much that I'm starting to worry about your sanity."

Hermione sighed and closed her eyes. She had had a feeling it would come to this. "Look, I have my own life, and I can live it as I choose. Now I'm tired so goodnight," she said in a forced calm. She proceeded to walk up the stairs to the girls' dorm.

"Fine, avoid the situation, LIKE YOU ALWAYS DO," Ron called, his voice getting progressively louder as she ascended the stairs and disappeared into the unknown. Harry was about to excuse himself to bed when Hermione came unexpectedly rushing back down, and he felt obliged to stay still.

"Exactly WHAT situation am I avoiding, _Ronald_?" she imposed, especially annunciating his full name, fire in her eyes. 

Ron had not actually expected her to do anything about his yelling; in fact, he had expected her to ignore him and stay in her dorm. He began to lose his cool and sputtered,

"Well…um…your avoidance…of…your friends," he finished, then suddenly regained his composure. "You always ditch us for that hook-nosed freak! He's all you care about!"

"I do not ditch you for him!"

"Well, sorry to burst your little intellectual bubble, but you do!"

"I do not!"

"Do too!"

"Do not!"

"Do too!"

"Do NOT!"

"Do TOO!"

"DO NOT!!!"

"DO TOO!!!!!"

Harry chose this moment to make a dash for the stairs, where he could both comfortably wait out their argument and hear everything that was going on.

Hermione threw her hands up in disgust. "You are so immature!"

"I'm not the only one who took part in it, Hermione!"

"Well it doesn't matter! You are just a—a jealous slut, Ron! Just because I can maintain a relationship for longer than one week doesn't mean you have to fly off in a tizzy every time it's mentioned!"

"Well just because I'm not desperate enough to carry on with the first arsehole that shows even an inkling of interest in me doesn't mean that I'm a slut! In fact, one could argue otherwise!"

There was a very, very pregnant pause, which ended with, from where Harry was sitting, the noise of flesh against flesh.

"For your information," Hermione began, her voice wavering desperately. She swallowed and continued, "The 'arsehole' and I just broke up."

Ron opened his mouth, but Hermione continued speaking and never got the chance to make a noise.

"And, Ronald Weasley, I never want to speak to you, ever, again," she finished, breathing loudly, looking as if she were evading tears. Hermione proceeded to run up the stairs to the girls' dorms, where the layers of stone walls mercifully (for her) blocked the noise of her sobs.

Harry finally dared to look around the corner, and saw Ron, head in hands, sitting desolately on a couch. As Harry neared him, he saw a large red imprint of a hand on the side of his face.

"So," Harry began, sitting next to him and slapping him on the back. "Good show, worth every penny. Want to go drown your sorrows?" Ron didn't answer, but got up and walked toward the door. They went to St. Quili's where Ron drank himself senseless and Harry nearly so, and they talked about every possible subject besides the one weighing on both of their minds.

Oh look, right below this little blurb is a convenient little place to leave a review! Why not take advantage of the situation?


	7. Chapter 9

A/N: Alright, here is the dreaded chapter that everyone's been asking about. I think everyone's going to hate me once this story finishes. Anyway, give Lupin a round of applause because she is just so cool, and everyone who has left reviews is also on my cool list. Oh yeah, there is a swear word in this chapter (only one, but I just figured I would warn everyone). 

Disclaimer: It's not mine.

****

Chapter 9

"Interesting resume," Headmaster Richard Stanley of Elliot Stanley's School of Magic commented to a well-dressed and professional looking Remus Lupin.

"I have held a wide range of jobs, but as you can see I have an ample amount of teaching experience," Remus answered, a hint of nerves slipping through his calm demeanor.

"Yes, yes, I see," Richard Stanley commented, twirling an end of his long mustache. "A year at Hogwarts School, and a year at Mumpsty School; and I see that you have a personal letter of recommendation from Albus Dumbledore."

"That is correct."

"In fact, you have a letter from Alastor Moody from your first job, proclaiming your usefulness as well."

Remus cringed inwardly at the use of the word "usefulness;" the man seemed to be objectifying him already. He knew what was coming. "I committed myself to every job I have had, and will continue to do so in the future," he offered, knowing it was a feeble attempt at repairing his chances for this job, which had been irreparably damaged two years beforehand.

"Indeed." Richard Stanley stood from his desk and began to pace the front of his respectably furnished office, staring intently at the wooden floor.

"Mr. Lupin," Richard Stanley began, sounding as though he were struggling to speak. "When my great-great-great-great-great-grandfather Elliot Stanley founded this school in 1650, he intended it to be a safe, stable, and top-quality learning center for young wizards. We began to allow witches into the school in 1690 to comply with the changing of the times, but since the establishment of this school that is the only major change that has been made." Richard Stanley sighed and looked up to face Remus. "I won't deceive you by claiming that this is the best school in Britain." He began to pace again. "Far from it in fact; quite honestly, we are near the bottom, and many of the classes we teach involve teaching the students to live as Muggles due to the fact that the great majority of our students are squibs, or nearly so." He paused to take a breath, as he seemed to be getting nervous. His pace quickened. "Nor will I attempt to fool you into thinking that it is stable; teachers come and go two or three times a year due to better positions being offered, and the ones that do stay are, to put it bluntly, horrible. As a result, the Ministry has been threatening to close the school since 1803. No, Mr. Lupin, we are by no means stable."

Remus looked at the ground, the feeling of disappointment finally settling into his stomach. 

"However, I can assure you that this school is as safe as any other. You are a dark creature, Mr. Lupin, and a great threat to those around you even with this so-called 'wolfsbane' potion. I, personally, have no reason to believe in its effectiveness or possibly even its existence. Parents would complain even if I did trust you; who would want their children schooled by a werewolf? Please put yourself in my position, Mr. Lupin, and understand that I could not hire you with even remotely good conscience. Safety is everything this school has, and I'm afraid I'd like to keep it that way. Good day, you may see yourself out." The man walked from the room, much quicker than he normally would have left and shut/slammed the door behind him, leaving Remus sitting in his chair, biting his lip, and staring at the floor.

__

Afraid is one word for it, he thought as he snapped out of his melancholy trance and began to hastily gather his resume from Richard Stanley's desk. It was his fourth interview in three days, and it had ended nearly the same as all the others. As he opened the door to leave, he wished for the anonymity he'd had before the whole fiasco had occurred, before he had tried to become a hero and save anyone, before the Daily Prophet had ruined his life…

He had saved Cornelius Fudge from an assassinator, and he had been widely praised for it. Remus didn't like the recognition, but it all seemed innocent enough until he woke up one morning, sat down with a cup of coffee, and found the Daily Prophet's headline to be, "REMUS LUPIN—WEREWOLF?!" He had spilled the coffee and burnt his hands, but the burn was nothing compared to what the article had said. It contained an interview with Lucius Malfoy, who accused Remus of deceiving everyone into believing that he was on the "good side," when in fact he was working for Voldemort. The byline read "Rita Skeeter," but Remus was too stunned to notice.

He had gotten over the initial shock of complete strangers hating him for a newspaper article, but even though Hermione had turned Rita into the authorities for being an unregistered animagus and Lucius Malfoy had been almost literally thrown into Azkaban, the scars still remained. As a result, in two years Remus had been unable to get a job even though he had been to at least one interview a week since.

__

It's too much for me, he thought as he walked down the stairs by a group of schoolchildren who stared as he passed. As he neared the exit, he heard a small voice holler, 

"FREAK!" but when he looked back he only heard the excited chatter the group was emitting as its members scampered away. Despite having experienced derogatory statements many times before and being able to shake it off, Remus felt tears well up in his eyes.

"Hey, steady on, you're not a freak and you know it. Besides, the little thing who called you that? You could strangle him with one hand. He deserves it, you know."

Remus turned, surprised to see Sirius standing against the edge of the building with a newspaper. "What are you doing here?" he managed to sputter, trying to hold back the childish tears that were fighting to come out.

"Thought I'd congratulate you on not having to work in this horrible place," Sirius said, walking evenly with his friend and motioning to the building behind them. "This school is just wrong. The headmaster, Richard Stanley? His parents named him 'Dick' for a reason." Sirius paused as he noticed Remus still hadn't cheered up. "Hey, what did the bastard say to you?" he asked gently, sitting him down on a bench. Remus bent over, shoulders shaking, and tearfully mumbled,

"I've had enough, Sirius. I can't fucking take it." Sirius was surprised at the swear word; Remus usually had very good control over his foul language. "I'm hated and they don't even know me. I can't lie it away, like I could before, and now even children—children, Sirius—are insulting me…I just can't take it. I can't even get a bloody job. It's been two years!" He suddenly sat up, voice loud. A teenage couple glared at them in recognition from the sidewalk, and crossed the street. "I've been trying for three years, and no one will hire me because I'm…" He resigned back to his bent over position and began to clutch his scalp. Sirius bent over as well and put a hand on his back in a lame attempt to comfort him. "Padfoot," Remus began, still crying. Sirius started; Remus hadn't called him "Padfoot" in awhile. "I'm sorry…I'm taking advantage of you, staying in your flat. I'll find something soon and I'll pay you back—"

Sirius pushed him off the bench as if they were both in school again and nothing had ever changed. Remus jumped up with a look of shock.

"What was that for?" he asked, bewildered, watching his friend as he gave him a smug look.

"Because you're being a pretentious git," Sirius announced, expression unchanging. "I don't give a damn whether or not you pay me or not, and I never want to hear you mention money again. As far as I'm concerned, you owe me nothing."

Remus just stared at him from the ground, mouth half open. 

"Oh get up, I have good news for you anyway," he muttered, pulling Remus up and back onto the bench.

"What good news could you possibly have? I just made a fool of myself in public, I don't have a job, and those kids walking by just gave us the finger."

Sirius couldn't help himself, and let out a laugh and waved at the children, whose looks of scorn quickly turned to looks of fear as they hastened out of sight. "Old Dick must've told the kids you were coming; there's no way you would have been recognized by so many people in one day. Anyway, read the paper." He handed Remus the paper he had been reading, and though Remus had doubts he resigned himself to Sirius's will. He observed that the paper had been opened to the classifieds section, and he shot Sirius a look that clearly said, "Yeah, right." Sirius gave him a look back that said, "Keep looking." Remus glared and his eyes scanned the page until they stopped at a small ad circled in pencil:

BOOKKEEPER (AND MORE)

DESPERATELY NEEDED!

Sense of humor a MUST

Interested applicants 

may interview from 

9:00am to 5:00pm with 

Fred and George Weasley of 

__

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes

No advanced owl required.

Remus looked at Sirius. "Isn't that…"

Sirius nodded. "I'm not sure, but considering that to enter the store, you have to say 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,' which is engraved above the door with credit given to Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, I'm pretty positive they'd give you a good, fair amount of consideration for the job."

Remus gave him a look that could only be read as meaning, "what?"

Sirius looked right back at him and said, "It's a respectable enough sounding job, 'Moony,' and I think you might enjoy it. Now let's get back to the flat, Maggie's coming over for dinner in 20 minutes."

Remus laughed. "The truth comes out, Mr. Compassionate," he said as he stood up and apparated with a small "pop." Sirius laughed as well, and followed.

***

Ron opened his eyes and sat up quietly in bed; a quick look at the clock told him that it was 2:07pm. Deciding it was time to get up, he yawned, stretched, and pulled up the shades to let some light in (he had decided that it was time for Harry to get up as well). Harry groaned and rolled over, pulling the covers over his head.

"Wake up, it's after 2," Ron said, pulling a sweater over his head.

"You're kidding!" Harry suddenly yelled, and practically catapulted himself out of his bed. From there he began to throw clothes on. Ron stopped and stared at his frantic friend.

"Geez Harry, you've got time. The portkey for Hogsmeade doesn't leave until 3:00."

"That's _today_?!" he said, stopping as he was about to run out the door.

"Er, yeah, why else would you be running off like that?"

"Gah," Harry grimaced as he realized his error. "Ron, I promised Michele we'd practice for the defense against the dark arts final today at 2, I'm already late. You don't mind, do you? Sorry, I'll make it up to you," Harry spat and, not waiting for Ron's response, ran from the room.

Ron glared and proceeded to mutter several choice phrases about Harry's girlfriend and Harry's definition of friendship. As he grabbed his cloak, he suddenly remembered that this meant he might have to be alone with Hermione and started to swear even louder. At least he was supposed to see Ginny; Hogwarts had designated that Saturday as a Hogsmeade visit day and Ron was happy to find that there was a portkey scheduled from his school as well. They had plans to meet up at 4:00 in The Three Broomsticks, and Ron was looking forward to it (if not just for the butterbeer). As he passed some windows he stopped; it was snowing pretty heavily, even for Canada. Transfixed by the snow, he didn't realize that time was passing until his watch said,

"Get moving you prat, the porktey leaves in 5 minutes!" Ron started, then ran down the hallway toward his destination, making a mental note to forgive Harry for abandoning him and thank him again for his birthday present (the talking watch). 

When he reached the room, he saw two students he didn't know and Hermione gathered around an empty milk carton, and a look at his watch told him he had only a minute to spare.

"Hi everyone," he said to the two girls, who smiled coyly. "Hey Hermione," he said quietly to Hermione. She refused to even glare at him, and did not reply.

Ron was beginning to get worried; usually when they fought it was over the next day, or at the most two days later. The last time they hadn't spoken to each other for over a week was when Hermione's cat Crookshanks "ate" Ron's "rat" Scabbers when they were 3rd years at Hogwarts. Ron did not want a repeat of his 13th year on the planet.

"Hermione," he began solemnly, "I'm sorry for—" he was cut off as the portkey left for Hogsmeade. He braced himself for the landing, and as soon as his feet were on the ground he opened his mouth to continue his apology. "Hermione, I'm sor…" he started, but trailed off as she dropped her hold on the milk carton and walked away, along with the two giggling girls from before. Sighing in defeat, he did the same and went to do some shopping, sightseeing, and conversing with people from his past.

An hour later, Ron had visited all of the usual places when his watch started yelling at him again and he realized that it was time for him to be at The Three Broomsticks to meet Ginny. Upon walking out of Honeydukes, he was almost blown back into the store with the force of the wind; it was snowing almost as hard there as it had been in Canada. Righting himself, he trudged out into the sea of white and muttered a spell that would point his wand in the direction of The Three Broomsticks.

At last he could make out the outline of the building through the blinding snow, and soon the door was visible. As he went to lay his mittened hand on the knob, a gloved one reached it at the same time. Startled, he looked up only to be greeted by the eyes of Hermione, who quickly shifted her look from one of surprised curiosity to one of harsh apathy. Ron decided to be a gentleman and stepped back to let her in first; however, she mistook his kindness for mockery and increased her look to an all out glare before walking in first anyway, slamming the door behind her. Ron sighed, re-opened the door, and followed. 

The pub was filled with people talking, laughing, and sipping their drinks. Ron took off his winter hat and looked for an empty seat. He found the only open seat at the bar, but to his dismay he saw that it was next to Hermione. Choosing her painful indifference over his painful feet, he bravely walked over, sat down, and ordered a hot butterbeer. As soon as Madame Rosmerta had gone to get Ron's order, a group of people across the room left and Hermione hastily stood and walked to one of the just vacated seats. The two girls from before, whom she apparently had become acquainted with, were with her. Ron shot a desolate look in her direction that she did not see. Just then, Madame Rosmerta came back with Ron's butterbeer.

"Thank you," he said sadly with a sigh.

"Well," Madame Rosmerta chuckled. "My butterbeer isn't _that_ bad, is it?"

"What? Oh, no! I'm sorry," he said, snapping out of his trance. "I've, er, got a lot on my mind."

"Really," Madame Rosmerta said, wiping out some glasses. "Like what?"

"It's just, well…I can handle it. I'll be alright." Ron decided that he would not tell Madame Rosmerta his life story.

She gave him a smile. "I hope she forgives you soon."

Ron returned her grin with a weird look; she ignored it and continued to wipe out the glasses. Sipping his butterbeer, he stole another longing glance at Hermione, who was involved in conversation with the two unnamed girls. Sighing, he took out a book he was reading and began to read (and read, and read) while he waited for Ginny. He was just getting worried when Madame Rosmerta began to speak to him again.

"Are you by any chance Ron Weasley, a.k.a. the tall red-headed dimwit with freckles and a big nose?" she asked.

Ron glared. He was beginning to dislike this woman. "Yes, why?"

"This came for you before you got here, by owl. I just remembered," she replied, tossing him an envelope. It was from Ginny; she told him she was sorry but that Hogwarts had cancelled the Hogsmeade trip due to the weather.

"Great," Ron mumbled, exasperated by this point at how lousy his day had been going. Just then, there was a tapping on the window, and Madame Rosmerta frowned and walked over. She ducked and opened it, successfully avoiding the large gust of wind and snow, and also the feathery torpedo that crashed onto the bar. The customers all laughed, and continued on with their conversations. Ron observed as Madame Rosmerta picked up the poor, shivering owl and draped a towel over its wings, taking the letter out of its talons in the process. Her eyes scanned its contents, and then she shouted, "'Oy! Anyone here from the Wizard University in Canada?" Ron nodded, looked back, and saw Hermione and the two girls wave their hands. "Just got owled by the school; they say that you're to stay here tonight because of the weather. And for all the rest of you, I'm closing now for the same reason, so out!" Everyone let out a collective moan and began to protest. "Oh be quiet! It's getting late, and the weather's horrible; most of you've been here since 5:00 anyway. Go home to your families." The customers resigned, and began to shuffle out (with much shooing from Madame Rosmerta). When everyone not staying overnight had cleared out, there were only the four students and their charms teacher Professor Moore left.

"Since you all insisted, I'll stay open a bit longer for you five." The remaining people cheered, and Madame Rosmerta gave them all a round of free butterbeer.

Ron read and drank, read and drank, and read and drank until his book was finished and he had run out of money (simultaneously), and until he had to go to the bathroom so badly that he doubted he could make it to the other side of the room without wetting himself. With a pang, he realized that to get to the bathroom would mean passing Hermione's table, but at that point nature was screaming louder than his senses, and he trotted away to pee. After he had relieved himself, he realized that to get back to his seat he would have to pass by Hermione again, and this time he wouldn't be distracted by his full bladder. Taking a deep breath (and ignoring the small voice in his head that told him it would be better to just take the long way and walk around the room), he set off, expecting the worst and getting something even worse than he expected; as he passed by her table she ignored him completely. Ron stopped in exasperation.

"You could at least acknowledge my presence, you know," he shot. The conversation that had been taking place between Hermione and her two new friends screeched to an abrupt halt, and she looked up at him dangerously.

"Why, Ron?" she began. "I don't particularly like you anymore. You're mean, contemptuous, and have no consideration for my feelings. So please, leave me alone."

"I just want to apologize, Hermione," Ron answered in a supercilious tone.

"Well, I don't want to accept your apology!" She was getting louder. The two girls were beginning to get more and more involved.

"Geez, you point out all my faults all the time; maybe you could do to be a little more forgiving and a little less nitpicky, and maybe a little nicer!" he replied in a mean tone, suddenly no longer caring.

"That's it!" she shouted, throwing her hands down on the table and standing up with a loud creak as she kicked her chair back. "Get away from me! I don't want to talk to you ever again, didn't I make myself clear yesterday?" The remaining two people who had not been staring before were now as engrossed as they could be.

"Well, you know what? Good! Because I don't want to talk you again either, and I sure as hell don't want to apologize anymore!" screamed Ron, stepping forward. Ron had never seen Hermione more livid than she was at that moment.

"Good! Because I hate you, Ron!"

"Well, I love you—" Ron stopped as he realized the magnitude of what he had just said, and in fact, _what_ he had just said (he was pretty sure he meant to say, "I hate you"). The two girls, Professor Moore, and Madame Rosmerta were hanging on Ron and Hermione's every breath. Hermione looked frozen in horror.

Ron swallowed; his eyes darted around the room, observing the scene he had, in essence, created, and his lip began to tremble. Then he did the only thing in the world that seemed logical for him to do at that moment in time: he ran.

***

Remus Lupin, dressed in the nicest robes he owned, stared up at the inscription above Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes with apprehension in his eyes. How many times had he said that phrase? How many detentions had it resulted in? How often had he thought of it during later years, long after it was clear that nothing would ever be the same again? Shaking himself back to his senses, he stood tall and proud and recited, as if saying an old familiar prayer: 

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." The door creaked open, and Remus Lupin pushed through and into the great beyond.

He was instantly aware of a small tinge in the back of his mind that jumped in excitement and wanted to buy everything in the store. One look around told him that the Weasleys' inventions had probably revolutionized the pranking profession (and doubled the quantity of items on the list of forbidden objects at Hogwarts). He wistfully wished it would have been open when he was in school; how much fun they would have had, how many more gray hairs they would have given Filch…

"Excuse me, may I help you?" Remus heard Fred or George call from the counter behind him. When he turned, he saw a look of pleased recognition pass over Fred or George's face.

"Professor Lupin!" the as yet unidentified twin grinned as he vaulted over the counter to shake his hand. Remus was surprised; he hadn't been greeted like that by anyone but Sirius since the newspaper article. "So, what brings you here? Oh, it's George by the way," George said, to Remus' relief.

"Good to see you George, the shop looks great," Remus began. George bowed. "Actually, I came for a job interview…" he paused as he saw George get a little confused.

"Aren't you a teacher?" he asked Remus.

"Well, I'm a bit of an everything," he answered, uncomfortably.

"Okay then, I'll go get Fred," George dutifully answered, showing Remus to the "office," which was filled with piles upon piles of papers and three chairs. Remus sat himself down and waited, well aware of the muted conversation that was taking place outside the door.

"Wait, _Lupin_?"

"Yeah, I told you, Remus Lupin."

"Our defense against the dark arts werewolf teacher _Lupin_?"

"Yes, like I said."

"Are you sure?"

"It's definitely him."

"Didn't he see the part where it said something about a 'sense of humor?'"

"He could have a sense of humor."

"He's a teacher, none of them have a sense of humor."

"We at least owe him the interview, Fred."

"Fine, let's go."

"After you."

Remus couldn't help but laugh at the account he was going to give Sirius. The interview was going so well, and it hadn't even started yet.

The door opened, and Remus greeted Fred, who returned the hello, and then sat with his twin in the two unoccupied chairs.

"So," George began, paging through Remus' resume, "extensive collection of jobs here, Professor Lupin—"

"Look," Remus said, sighing resignedly, "Let me give this to you straight." Fred and George stared at him with surprised interest. "I've been looking for a job for two years now. Not one person will hire me; I'll leave the reason unsaid, I think you both know why. I have bookkeeping experience, I can do whatever you want me to do and probably more."

The twins looked at each other as if silently reading one another's thoughts. George finally spoke.

"Professor Lupin, that's all well and good, but you were our teacher at Hogwarts…how much of a sense of humor can you have? We've had plenty of people apply, all with qualifications like yours, but we don't want someone who's going to leave when they find out how we conduct business…which, incidentally, is very unprofessional, if you will."

Remus looked down. It had come to this, had it? "I have much more of a sense of humor than either of you know," he said.

"Oh really, professor?" Fred said, leaning back and putting his feet up on a large pile of papers, crossing his legs defiantly. "How so?"

Remus took a breath. "You're familiar with Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs?" he asked quietly. Fred and George nodded. "Well, I'm Moony." The twins attained identical looks of bewilderment.

"Excuse me?" George asked.

"Moony," Remus answered.

"You're WHO?" Fred questioned.

"Moony," Remus answered yet again.

"No," Fred said, shaking his head.

"Yes," Remus replied, nodding his. "The Marauders Map that you treasured so dearly at Hogwarts?"

Fred and George nodded.

"My idea."

Fred stood at this. "Prove it," he affronted.

Remus coolly stood as well and accepted the challenge. "Secret passages to Hogsmeade that Filch never found out about, excluding the whomping willow passage: statue of the one-eyed witch. Tap her hump with your wand, say _Dissendium_, her rear will open and you come out in the basement of Honeydukes. The second one is behind the small mirror in the first floor hallway, right next to the huge mirror that everyone pays attention to. Tap the mirror and say 'Let me in,' and you'll end up below Zonko's."

"Too easy," George said, shaking his head.

"Fine. Secret passage to the Slytherin common room from the Gryffindor common room: climb halfway up the fireplace. Tap the black brick with your wand and command it to open; the brick will expand and open up, and you turn left at the first fork or else you end up behind a portrait in McGonagall's office, and then turn right at the second, or else you end up in Snape's, and then you push aside the third tapestry and you're there."

Both Fred and George were rendered speechless, and then suddenly both were groveling on the floor.

"Forgive us for doubting," Fred said. "We knew not what we were doing!"

Remus began to look oddly at them. "Get up, stop it," he said, a little surprised (and a little frightened). They obeyed him immediately. "So, can I have the job then?"

"Can he have the job then. Of _course_ you can have the job, professor—"

"You can call me Remus, Fred, you're my superior now if I remember correctly," Remus smirked.

"No, we will never measure up to your greatness."

__

Whatever you say, Remus thought, trying to contain his laughter.

"You can start Monday, is that alright?"

***

Ron didn't run far; he stopped just outside of the door to the pub and leaned against the building, resisting the urge to pound his head against the wall while the snowflakes stung his face. It wasn't long before he felt frozen (his cloak was still inside on the bar counter), but given the choice between death and facing the incorrigible mess he had created inside, he would have chosen death in a second. It was for this reason that he sat, huddled against the wall, wishing that everything was just a dream. After a few minutes, the door to the pub opened and Professor Moore appeared, squinting out into the distance for some sign of Ron.

"Inside, inside! You'll freeze," Professor Moore said when he saw Ron, and held the door open for him.

"That's the idea," Ron mumbled, closing his eyes and bracing himself for the real ice storm inside.

However, when he entered he heard nothing, no laughter, no heckling, not even talking. Opening his eyes, he saw an empty pub save Madame Rosmerta, who was cleaning the bar, and his Professor who, with a pitying look, almost immediately bid him goodnight and ascended the staircase to the rooms above. Ron walked over to one of the tables and lay his head in his arms, wishing it all to end, not realizing that he was dozing off.

Several hours later Ron woke up, and for a blissful second thought it was all a dream; then he realized he was at a table in the darkened pub and reality collided into him with the force of a truck. The darkness surrounded Ron; a single lamp was lit near the staircase, and by its meager light Ron was able to see a note with a key attached to it (reading "Room 3, sleep well), his book, and his cloak lying on the table next to where his head had been. He had finally resigned himself to the reality of his irreversible predicament, and was about to take his things and ascend the staircase to his room when he saw a pair of big eyes staring at him from across the pub. Further observation led him to see that the eyes belonged to Hermione.

The first thought that came to his mind was that he should say something, so he opened his mouth to speak. After he did this, he realized that he had no idea what to say, so he closed it again. Immediately following this, he got the idea of reiterating his rehearsed apology from earlier, so he opened his mouth again; however, he remembered that she hadn't wanted to hear the apology, so he closed it again. After that, he thought that he should tell her how he felt, how much he loved her and how sorry he was for having caused her pain, and opened his mouth yet again, but he thought that he might sound like a pansy, so he shut it. Then the thought of taking everything back and running upstairs dawned on him, so he opened his mouth yet again; however, a little voice in the back of his head told him that this was a stupid thing to do so he closed it—

"You look like a fish," Hermione said with a smirk on her face. Ron finally accepted the fact that he didn't know what to say, and for once said nothing.

There was a long pause. He stared in her direction, a look of anguished sorrow residing on his face, watching her stare harshly at him and wishing that this would all end. 

"So this is why you've been so horrible; you've been jealous."

"Congratulations, you've figured me out," Ron mumbled, though he knew Hermione could hear him.

"Look," Hermione sighed, voice remaining strict. "You were a real prick, Ron and you really hurt me…don't deny it, because you know it's true, and don't grab your stuff and run away either."

__

Damn, Ron thought, _there go options one and two_. More silence passed, though it wasn't as harsh this time. Hermione had softened noticeably; apparently, she had gotten part of the message that his face was trying to convey. An expression of pained thought crossed Ron's countenance as he realized what he would have to do. "I'm sorry about you and Viktor…I know you loved him."

"Probably at one point," Hermione said, sighing. 

"Well, I'm still sorry. How have you been doing? Have you been okay?"

"I've been managing…it's hard, but I'm alive." She shrugged and began to play with a napkin.

"What happened between you two anyway?" Ron asked innocently.

Hermione reddened, and looked down.

"Come on, you can tell me…" 

Finally, Hermione sighed. "Promise you won't laugh?" 

"Weasley honor."

"I'm not convinced."

"Well, it's all I've got."

"Fine," Hermione huffed. After a brief pause, she mumbled "Hedumefermila."

"What?"

"He dumped me for Amelia. You know, my supermodel roommate…"

"Oh," Ron said, surprised, "I'm…er, sorry…" _Stop it, Weasley,_ he thought as he tried to contain his laughter, contorting his face in the process.

Hermione gave him a stern glare.

"Wh-what? I'm not laughing," Ron replied, his voice wavering desperately. They both stood in silence for a minute, but finally Ron couldn't hold it in any longer and let out a snort.

"Ron," Hermione threatened.

Ron continued to shake with his laughter, and began to turn red from the effort of keeping it bottled up.

"Stop it, Ron," Hermione continued, but the effect was lessened as her voice was broken by her own giggles seeping through her stern tone. Soon, they were both laughing together, on separate sides of the room. 

When they had stopped a few minutes later, Hermione, still with a hint of a chuckle in her voice, said,

"You can come over here and sit down, you know."

Ron immediately grabbed his things and obliged, but when he got there silence again took over the room and the two carefully avoided each other's glances. Ron was beginning to get antsy from the intense quiet.

"Are you still mad?" he asked.

She shook her head; he felt relief fall upon him like a grateful summer breeze.

The ticking of the clock on the wall soon became noticeable as the conversation lapsed again. Hermione's eyes finally met Ron's, and their gazes stuck for a minute or two.

"You really are a dolt. You know that, don't you?" she quipped.

Ron smiled and nodded, still staring into her eyes. Hermione was beginning to get a bit uncomfortable.

"And another thing, you really need to find a more effective way to express your feelings."

His grin widened and he nodded even more broadly than before, his eyes not moving from hers though her eyes were darting around in nervousness.

"Also, you—" Ron suddenly leaned closer to her and put his finger to her lips, effectively shushing her for the time being.

Her eyes no longer moved; they were fixed in his. The sound of both of their breathing became painfully apparent to her as he began to lean his face closer to hers. She could soon feel his breath on her cheek, her skin tingled where his hand touched her face, her heart began to beat faster…

"Goodnight!" she squeaked when his face was millimeters away, and shot out of her chair and toward the stairs.

"Hey!" Ron yelled, offended, stopping her halfway across the room. "What gives?" When she turned back to look at him, he had a hurt look on his face and was about as red as she had ever seen him before. "I mean…don't you…" 

For the fifth time that night, they were both rendered speechless.

Ron slowly walked over to where Hermione was standing, and put his hands on her arms.

"Ron…" Hermione began shakily, "I don't…" The crushed look that appeared on his face stopped her from going any further. Hermoine found herself unable to answer.

She had meant for it to be a quick kiss and a dash up the stairs, but he had held her there much longer than she had meant to stay. She soon pushed away from him and ran, tripping over a chair as she did so but continuing on anyway. Ron watched her with reverence from behind, sitting in a chair and staring after her for a bit before he finally went up to bed.

***

"Good seeing you again, and thank you," Remus Lupin said, shaking the hands of both Fred and George perhaps more vigorously than he would have liked. "Mind if I apparate?"

"No, not at all," George said. "See you Monday, Professor!" 

Remus smiled and nodded, and with a small pop he was gone from the store and in the kitchen at the flat.

"Sirius, I'm back! I got the job!" he called, waiting for Sirius to bound in and yell, "Yes! I knew it!" and say something witty. However, nothing happened_. Must still be asleep_, Remus thought; _he isn't on call today_. _Oh well, it's time for him to be awake anyway._ "Black, I got the job!" Remus yelled, opening the door to Sirius' room and expecting Sirius to yell something rude, roll over, and fall back asleep.

However, a very different sight greeted Remus' eyes when he burst into Sirius' room. The first thing he noticed was that the bed was empty. The room had been literally trashed; the curtains were torn, the floor was scratched and charred along with various items of clothing, and the bed had been broken, the bedclothes torn, and the mattress ripped apart. On the floor near the door, there was a piece of parchment with writing in a distinct red ink. Shaking, Remus leaned over and picked it up, afraid to read the contents, eyes unwilling to believe them when they did.

***

Hermione looked at her watch; it was 3:00. Ron had to be awake by now. She excused herself from the nearly empty pub (the weather persisted and patrons were few) and climbed the stairs to Ron's room with intentions of waking him. Where they would go from there, she didn't know; when the other four inquired after what had happened the night before, all she told them was that they had forgiven each other. Room 1…Room 2…Room 3. Hermione knocked.

"Ron, you there?" she called. No answer. "I'm coming in, you lazy prat," she called again, tapping the doorknob with her wand and muttering "_Alohomora_."

What she saw inside caused her to gasp. The room was in shambles; there had obviously been a struggle. The bed was empty, and blankets and little bits of the dilapidated mattress were torn, charred, and spread about the room. The window was broken. Near her feet she saw a note and did not hesitate to pick it up and read it. Scrawled in what looked like red ink (Hermione did not want to think of what else it could be) were the words:

This makes two. You're next, Harry Potter.

Review. Harry Potter would want you to. (For the sake of this plug for reviews, please ignore the fact that he is fictional.)


	8. Chapter 10

A/N: Here's chapter 10. Only 2 more to go after this…I'll get them up soon, either now, tonight, or tomorrow. Everyone go and read everything written by Lupin because not only is she a great writer, but she is a wonderful beta reader. I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed me. If you're an author and have reviewed me: if I haven't read and reviewed something you've written yet then I'm working on it, I promise!

****

Chapter 10

"Is something wrong, Michele?" Harry asked over lunch.

"No, nossing is wrong," she said quickly, with an angelic smile. "Why do you ask?"

"Well," Harry began, suspicions fading as he looked in her eyes. "You've been…distant lately," he murmured as she drank from her pumpkin juice.

"I sink zat you are full of it, 'Arry. Loosen up a little."

He smiled at her, grateful of the way that she could make him melt. Maybe he was in love.

"Are we still going to practice today?" Michele asked. "I 'aven't forgiven you for being late yesterday, you know."

"I'm really, really sorry about that," Harry replied, a look of genuine repentance on his face. "It will never…" he stopped as she started to laugh.

"I was just kidding, 'Arry. Besides, any grudges I 'ave will end when I beat you in our Quidditch match next week."

"Heh, you wish," Harry grinned.

"No, you do. Now come on, let's go," Michele said, smiling mischievously and, or at least Harry liked to think, seductively.

They had just reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts practice room when Snape emerged from his office.

"Potter," he said, surprisingly without a sneer, "I need to speak with you. Alone. Please step into my office."

"What about, sir?" Harry asked, unwilling to leave Michele.

"It's a rather personal matter, and will be discussed in my office. Now, if you please."

Harry sighed and turned toward Michele, who was looking a little exasperated. He then looked back at Snape. "How long will this take?"

"Honestly, I expect it to occupy a good portion of your day."

"You can go, then," he told Michele, disappointed. She walked off in a huff, upset that her afternoon had been spoiled, and he looked after her, surprised that Snape was being as patient as he was.

After she had disappeared around a corner he followed Snape into his office, and the sight of the interior caused him to jump. Seated in chairs were a worried Remus, a tearful Hermione, and a solemn Professor Dumbledore.

"What…" Harry began, a funny feeling forming in the pit of his stomach.

"Please sit down. We have some bad news," said Snape as he lowered himself into the chair behind his desk. Harry slowly sat in the only vacant seat.

"Harry," Professor Dumbledore began, "You know that Voldemort is back."

"Where's Ron?" Harry asked suddenly, realizing that Ron's absence was an oddity due to Hermione's presence. The feeling became worse as Hermione began to cry. "Wait a minute, where's Sirius? If this is such a serious situation, where's Sirius?" No one spoke. Harry's breath choked to a stop in his throat. "Are they…did Voldemort…"

"We don't know, Harry. They've been taken," Dumbledore finally said gravely. "Between last night and this morning, both Sirius and Ron have disappeared from their beds; their rooms were found in shambles and notes were left. Here they are," Dumbledore stopped, showing Harry two pieces of parchment and answering his silent question, "but please, do not be too alarmed at their contents, someone is obviously trying to scare you—"

"They're doing a bloody good job!" Harry yelled, momentarily losing his temper. He sat back and closed his eyes, trying to regain his composure. "Sorry," he said softly. Hermione was now crying more than ever, and Remus moved over to put a hand on her shoulder. "May I see the letters, Professor Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore silently obliged, and Harry silently read them over. 

Here's the first one.

This makes two. You're next, Harry Potter.

The Dark Mark was at the bottom of both pieces of parchment. 

Harry closed his eyes again, pushing himself to keep the little amount of composure that he had left. "What now?" he asked.

"We have people looking. There are already some leads," Dumbledore said.

"Don't lie when you answer this question. Do you honestly think that they are alive?"

"I don't know. It is likely that they are alive, and Voldemort is trying to lure you into looking for them."

Harry mumbled something unintelligible under his breath. "What am I to do, then?"

"Stay here in school. Increased security measures are being taken, and you are not, under any conceivable circumstances, to leave the protection of the grounds and/or go into an area where you know there will be any kind of trouble. Understood?"

Harry nodded numbly, unaware of the fact that his lip was trembling.

"I will owl you every day to tell you any news regarding the situation." 

Harry nodded again.

"Serveus will be watching out for you here. Please make an effort to continue with your studies, and if anything—and I mean _anything_—out of the ordinary happens, you are to owl me immediately and then go to Serveus. Is everything clear?"

Harry nodded yet again. "Sorry about earlier," he muttered apologetically.

"It is alright and understandable. Now, I must get back to Hogwarts. Miss Weasley is in quite a state, and I am afraid that panic may spread once word of the disappearances travels. I will contact you soon. Please accompany me, Serveus, I would like to speak with you." Dumbledore left with Snape, and soon only Remus, Harry, and Hermione were in the room.

"Why?" Harry asked, his voice wavering. "Why the hell is this happening? Why doesn't he just take me and be done with it?"

"Don't say that," Hermione said quietly.

"I will be looking for them personally," Remus said. "Believe me, this won't be a pathetic attempt at a search."

Harry nodded. "I know," he said.

"I wish I could stay longer, but I have to get started," Remus said, standing up. "Right when I get a job, I have to go and ask my employers for time off so I can search for their missing brother."

"Who?" Harry asked, pleased that Remus had finally gotten a job but too upset to show it.

"Fred and George Weasley. I'm their bookkeeper and more."

"They don't know yet?"

"No. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were owled before we came, and probably have yet to even read the letter let alone write their children. Hermione owled Ginny from Hogsmeade, or else she wouldn't know either."

Harry nodded, and Remus bid him and Hermione goodbye and then left.

Harry found himself staring at the floor, but was interrupted when Hermione put a hand on his shoulder.

"Let's get out of here, it gives me the creeps," she muttered. Harry nodded, and they both left for their tower and eventually ended up in Hermione's dorm room. She proceeded to burst into tears again, and Harry resumed staring at the floor.

"It's going to be alright, Harry, I think, I hope," she moaned, still crying. He started to laugh despite himself.

"What a picture we must make, eh?" he joked, hugging Hermione tightly. "You crying your eyes out, and you're comforting _me_." She returned the hug and also started to laugh through her tears. They pulled apart, and both managed to regain some semblence of composure.

"What happened at Hogsmeade?" Harry asked

"Just what Dumbledore said. I walked upstairs to get Ron, and his room was torn apart. There was a note on the floor; you saw it. No one heard anything suspicious before then, it was a complete shock."

"No clues at all as to whom it may have been?"

"You know what I know." 

Harry went back to staring at the floor. Hermione stared nervously at him, wishing he would do something else. "They want you, Harry."

"No, really?" he mumbled.

"Don't be sarcastic with me right now!" Hermione snapped, turning away from him and wringing her hands. "I can't take it, alright?"

"Sorry," Harry said tentatively, looking at her. "I stand by what I said earlier; I wish they would just take me and have it over with."

Hermione didn't answer; she was crying again. Harry went back to staring at the floor.

"Well, what are we going to do about this?" she asked, suddenly moving her watery gaze to him. Harry looked oddly at her.

"Um, what Dumbledore said," he answered.

"Oh please, Harry," Hermione shot, her voice contradicting her tear stained face. "Spare me. You always say that, then sooner or later you get lured out of the school and into danger, unprotected, and are forced into a head to head battle with Voldemort."

Harry paused. "Oh yeah. Well, I suppose we wait until that happens then." 

"I hate this. We're in this situation too often…we're running more than we're living."

Harry felt something solidify inside him, and he knew that he wasn't going to run anymore; however, he didn't vocalize his thoughts. He sat with Hermione, her comforting him and vice versa, until dinner. 

***

Ron was sweating and trembling; he was clad only in his shorts and he felt the heat of nearby fire stinging him all over his exposed skin. There was a high, cold laugh in the background, and then the pain began. It coursed through every capillary in his body, and his every last cell was screaming in hot, burning agony. His pupils were dilated; his breath came in short gasps; it was nearly impossible to see his surroundings, even after the blinding pain came to an end. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. The pain would return in one way or another, it was all a matter of time. He could have sworn he heard thunder, but the only concrete thing he had deduced was that he was underground. It didn't matter because the pain was back again, like fire, burning, throbbing, and pulsing…

Harry woke up, sweating, trembling, and scared until he realized that it had just been another dream. He flicked on the light, pulled out a parchment, and blindly scribbled,

Dumbledore,

Dream. Ron. Cruciatus Curse. Fire. Darkness. Pain. Underground. Scar's hurting.

Harry

"Hedwig," he called groggily, trying to ignore the blinding pain (he had been keeping Hedwig in his room instead of the owlrey due to his dreams). His owl obeyed, and he tied the note to her leg and collapsed backwards onto the bed. Unwilling to close his eyes again, he took a quick glance at his watch ("Go back to sleep") and sighed. He hadn't slept well for a week. Each time his head hit the pillow, he dreamed of either Sirius or Ron, always waking up trembling around 4:00am in a pool of sweat with his scar hurting. Though their surroundings seemed vaguely familiar, he always woke up before he had time to place them. He grabbed his glasses, put a shirt on, and walked down to the cafeteria to get some breakfast, disregarding how he looked because he just didn't care. 

_This week was sent with compliments from hell_, he thought as he walked. There had been no news on the whereabouts of his missing friend and godfather, and the only clues they received were in the form of Harry's dreams (Dumbledore supposed them to be true). He had been practicing with Michele all week for the Defense Against the Dark Arts exam, but he still got the nagging feeling that something wasn't right. She usually kissed it away when he was in her presence for more than 10 minutes, but he still felt apprehensive over something. It was probably love, he decided. Maybe he would tell her his feelings after he cleaned her clock in Quidditch later that day. 

Reaching the cafeteria, he found it empty, as it usually was at that time of the morning. Sitting forlornly with his orange juice and pop tart, he prayed that Sirius and Ron were alright.

***

"Potter and Bender are circling the field, no doubt looking for the other to either mess up or find the snitch. Potter, as I'm sure you all know, defeated Viktor Krum in an amazing race for our favorite little winged golden ball earlier in the season; however, Bender has proven herself a very worthy seeker as well, losing only once so far to the great Viktor Krum himself. And it looks like St. Michael is all patched up down there, so on with the match!"

Harry vaguely heard the commentary as he darted around, trying to shake off

Michele. _Something's wrong_, he thought; the way she was acting did not suggest friendly competition, but it did hint that she was out for blood. He heard cheers and saw that Tower 2 had scored yet again; he flew down behind the reserve keeper and shouted a few words of encouragement. It seemed to work, and he caught the next few quaffles.

Harry darted left, and Michele darted left. Harry dove, so did Michele. He looked back; he could see the fire in her eyes. As he was doing this, she suddenly accelerated and pulled ahead of him; he saw the snitch at the same time and was off like a shot. The cold wind slapped against his face and pushed back his hair. It easily penetrated his robes and he could feel his skin tingling at its touch. He accelerated as hard as he could and he pulled ahead of Michele, just in time to grab it before she did.

The crowd roared, but Harry didn't notice; he was flying next to Michele, who was giving him a defeated smile and telling him quietly that he had done well. He halfheartedly accepted the congratulations he received from members of his tower and teachers alike, all the while knowing that Sirius and Ron should have been there.

Through it all, he noticed Michele disappear.

***

"Michele! Wait up!" Harry called, sprinting to catch up to her in the hall. She stopped and smiled.

"Salut," she said as he kissed her hello. She returned it halfheartedly.

"Are you mad at me for catching the snitch?"

"No, 'Arry—"

"Good, because there's something I need to say to you, Michele," Harry said happily, not noticing just how forced her smile had become.

"Wait, 'Arry, I—"

"No, you wait, if I don't say this now I never will. Michele, I think I'm in love with you."

"'Arry—"

"Look, I know it's sudden, but I'm so sure about this. You've been so good to me this past week…I don't think I could have survived it without you."

"Please, 'Arry—"

"Wait, I'm not done. This isn't being brought on just because of this week though, I swear."

"'Arry please let me—"

"I really, truly, honestly love you, I have for awhile, but I just haven't had the courage to say it—"

"'I'm seeing someone else!" Michele finally cried out. 

Harry literally froze.

"I've been trying to tell you ever since you started talking…"

"Oh," he replied shortly, blinking.

"I am sorry, 'Arry, but it iz over…." With that, she walked away very quickly without so much as a hint of wanting to look back.

Harry didn't move. It wasn't true, he wasn't going to believe it, this was all a dream…and yet, there she was, walking away from him. A single desperate thought suddenly crept into his mind. "Wait!" Harry called just as she was about to turn the corner. She stopped and looked at him. "Who?" he asked. People were crossing between them in the crowded hallway, laughing and talking as if the world had not just ended. Michele hesitated.

"…Draco Malfoy." Then she was gone.

Harry walked around in a daze, looking for someone, anyone he knew that would offer him solace. Ron was gone, Sirius was gone, Hermione was holed up in the lab, Remus was busy and wouldn't reply to his owl for days, and his girlfriend, the only one who had been a help to him for the worst week of his life, had just dumped him for his worst enemy.

Unable to hold up his manly façade for any longer, he climbed the stairs to his room, lay on his bed, and cried to himself for over an hour before going to practice as hard as he could for his exam the next day. He had foolish hopes that he would become so tired that dreams would not plague him, and perhaps he could finally have a normal, only semi-tortured sleep.

***

Hermione had entered the zone, and she had no plans to stop working anytime soon. It was 5:00am, and she hadn't slept since the night before, but it was nothing that a handy energy charm couldn't fix. Her hands moved the quill across the parchment like fire going through dried grass, and her mind was working as it never had before. Everything was clicking, everything was working, and she could do no wrong. She didn't notice that the only candle still lit in the room had burned itself down to a nub or that the fire had extinguished itself long ago. All she knew was the parchment, her quill, and the melding of _Avada Kedavra_ to the shield spell. She didn't notice the sweat dripping down her temples until it landed on the parchment, and with a quick wipe it was gone. _Ron_, she thought, _wherever you are, you'd better appreciate this_.

***

They were both there this time, in the familiar underground cavern, surrounded by fire, surrounded by pain, surrounded by darkness. Something was different, though, however similar the circumstances were…This time, he could see him. His beady, snake-like eyes protruded from his sick, gray face; the sinister smile he gave sent a shiver down his spine. 

"I know you can hear me, Potter," he sneered.

***

Hermione suddenly pushed too hard on the quill and it snapped, splattering ink all over the blank parchment. Without a second thought, she grabbed her wand, muttered a spell, and watched the parchment return to its previous state of order. She glanced at her watch; four hours had gone by, and the candle she lit three hours ago suddenly went out like the one before it, and the one before that. "_Accio Candle_," she said, waited for a candle to jump into her hand, and then lit it with her favorite fire spell and continued. She didn't dare believe it, but an end was coming into sight.

***

"Have you been having a good week, Harry Potter? Especially in your dreams?" Voldemort asked as he put the Cruciatus Curse on Sirius and allowed Harry to simultaneously watch and feel his pain. "Enjoying this little slice?"

He prodded Sirius with his wand and the curse stopped, leaving Sirius panting and trembling from the wall he was hanging on. The metal cuffs clinked against the stone and made his breathing oddly apparent. Something was suddenly familiar about the surroundings, but he did not have time to reflect. "Don't answer, I can tell you've been having fun." He moved on to Ron, and Harry felt his insides burn. Voldemort snorted. "Harry, love, don't worry…they will be put out of their misery shortly.

***

She pushed, and pushed, and pushed, ignoring the pain in her hand, praying that it was the right thing to do. Her watch said 12:00pm, but it was Sunday and that meant that no one would be coming in to work. She didn't care; she didn't have time. Something inside her told her that it was then or never, and so she pushed more, finishing yet another parchment. Checking it carefully for nonexistent errors, she moved on to the next and possibly last parchment that she would need.

***

"I can just feel you panicking, you insolent child. Barely wizarding age, and already infused with the thought that you or anyone else could possibly stop me." Harry couldn't have answered even if he had wanted to. "Remember this?" Voldemort suddenly pointed his wand at Ron and shouted a familiar curse; Ron proceeded to violently retch slugs down his front and onto the stone floor. "I know it all, Harry Potter. I've been aided, of course, but he hardly did it of his own accord, so I will take the credit. I know your hopes, your fears, your silly and pointless ambitions…and the manner in which the two people you care for most will die." He put the curse on Sirius as well, seemingly just for kicks. "Am I the only one out of the two of us that is able to see the irony in that?" he asked with a hint of a cold smile.

***

Time had flown and dragged simultaneously. She was virtually at the end, and only one problem remained: would she be able to cast the spell once it was finished? The last one had been so difficult that no one could perform it except for Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard in the world. She was not Dumbledore. Therefore, even according to Darwinian logic, she could not perform the spell if it were as difficult as the last one. She saw the sample spiders in the jar to her right and, as she hesitantly wrote down her final equation and solution, hoped.

***

"I'll be generous, Potter. I am feeling generous today." With that, he again performed the Cruciatus Curse on both of his victims; Harry could neither watch nor look away. "I'll give you the time." He stood back and watched Ron and Sirius tremble on the wall and spew slugs out of their mouths. Harry would have gasped if he could have; Ron's eyes had rolled back into his head.

"Let's say, oh, 8:00pm tonight. No, even better, 9:00pm. I'll let them live in another hour of pain, just for you." Voldemort finally removed the curse; by this time, both Ron and Sirius were even more limp and motionless, if possible. As Harry took in the appearance of the wall and the shackles, a memory that he never wanted to think of again began to play inside his head. "And as for where they are," Voldemort sneered, "I'll leave that to you…Oh, and good luck on your exam; I wouldn't miss it—if I were you, anyway. Good evening, _Potter_."

***

A purple jet of light seemed to fly from Hermione's wand and engulf the frail body of the spider in a purple bubble; the spider kept crawling, and soon the bubble faded into transparency. Hermione fell back into her chair, panting, breathless, and speechless. She could not actually test the spell, of course; if it were successful, she would be killed when the killing curse reflected off of the unassuming spider and hit her, the person who had cast Avada Kedavra. However, she did not think of such things; it had to work, it just had to. 

She was finished.

***

Harry tried to hang onto his vision, despite the pain and torture, as he was forcefully brought back into consciousness. Everything was more familiar than he wanted to admit; the stone walls and the floor, the atmosphere… Suddenly, his eyes snapped open.

He knew where they were.

Don't waste a perfectly good review box. Leave a review (please).


	9. Chapter 11

A/N: Cheers to Lupin, beta reader extraordinaire. One more chapter after this; I have to rewrite and add a bit to it, so it may be in either around 1am or sometime tomorrow afternoon. And thanks to all who reviewed and pointed out that Snape's name is not Serveus…I have always pronounced it as "Serveus" and thought that was how it was spelled and pronounced, but alas, my little bubble has been burst and now I will pronounce it correctly: "Severus." See? Incidentally, I thought McGonagall's name was McGonnall until recently as well. Maybe I need glasses. 

I disclaim everything. All new and unfamiliar monsters mentioned were lifted from Final Fantasy VIII, a very cool, very long, and very involving video game that the clerk gave me an odd look for renting because I am a girl.

****

Chapter 11

Harry jumped out of bed and looked at his watch. It was 5:00pm; the dream/vision/whatever it was had obviously kept him asleep for that long. He ignored the fact that he was sweating and hungry; his Defense Against the Dark Arts exam was to begin at 7:00 that evening, and he had a feeling that if he missed it something very, very bad would happen. _Hermione, go find Hermione_, he suddenly thought. _First, Owl Dumbledore; second, find Snape…_ he had no idea what to do first, his thoughts were so jumbled. _Dumbledore is first priority_, a mercifully sane voice in the back of his head told him, and he called Hedwig from his perch, thankful for Canada's efficient international owling system that would get his letter to Dumbledore in 4 hours instead of 3 days. _It's still too late_, he thought with a sinking feeling in his stomach, but continued writing anyway.

Professor Dumbledore,

I had another, more vivid dream. Voldemort has Sirius and Ron in the secret dungeons underneath the school. He is going to kill them at 9:00 tonight, I just woke up, please believe me, or I would have written earlier. I'll figure something out, but whatever is going to happen, please let the Weasleys know that I did everything I could, and tell them that I love them like parents and thank them, just in case.

Harry.

P.S. To get into the dungeons, go to the potions room, tap the pentagon brick in the center, and say _Dissendium_.

Harry practically threw Hedwig out the window and then hastily grabbed the first things he found on the floor and threw them on. Snape was next, he decided, and sprinted to the Defense Against the Dark Arts wing, not believing that he was actually going to confide in Snape. Out of breath and heaving, he reached Snape's office just as the teacher was leaving and almost crashed into him in the hallway.

"Potter?" Snape asked, confused.

"Professor," Harry panted, "I know where Ron and Sirius are! He's going to kill them at 9:00 tonight—"

"Calm down," Snape said. "Did you owl Dumbledore?"

"Yes!" Harry shouted, deeply distressed.

"Harry, please sit down and listen to me."

Harry did not sit down, but he did listen.

"Voldemort was just threatening you. If you go to 'rescue' them, you will be walking directly into a trap. In my opinion—and believe me, I was a Death Eater, it's well founded—you should stay and wait for Dumbledore's reply before you do anything rash. You have the Defense Against the Dark Arts exam to take tonight, and you have to be there. Understand?" 

Harry blinked; he could have sworn he saw Snape twitching oddly throughout his unusually calm (and unusually nice, and unusually uncharacteristic) speech. Something - he couldn't put his finger on it - wasn't right. He nodded slowly in response to Snape's inquiry.

"Good. Now go eat something and prepare; the exam begins in an hour and a half."

Harry walked out of the dungeons, but began to sprint again as soon as he turned the corner. Snape stepped into his office and muttered to a dark, cloaked figure.

"He'll be at the exam, I'm sure of it. Carry out as planned."

Meanwhile, Harry was racing toward Tower 7 when he literally bumped into Hermione as she was doing the same.

"Sorry," they both said without thinking and continued to run. "WAIT!" they both yelled when they realized that they had bumped into the exact person they were looking for.

"Hermione," Harry began hurriedly, "Voldemort kept me asleep. I had a dream, but he was speaking to me…he knew I was listening."

"What—"

"He's going to kill Ron and Sirius tonight at 9:00. They're in the secret dungeons under the school; they're below the potions dungeon. The big stone in the center of the room? Tap on it with your wand and say _Dissendium_, like with the one-eyed witch at Hogwarts."

Hermione nodded. "Did you owl Dumbledore?" she asked.

"Yes, he'll never get it in time."

"Did you go to Snape?"

"Something's wrong with Snape," Harry replied, eyes beginning to get a little wild.

"What?"

"Something's just not right about the way he's acting, I'm serious. He's trying to make me go to the exam…the dream I had, Voldemort hinted that something would happen at the exam…Hermione, I have to be at the exam. I'm sure that if I'm there Voldemort will be there too. It will keep him away from Ron and Sirius."

Hermione stared. "What do you think you're going to do?!" she half shouted. "Think about what you're saying, Harry!"

"I can't run forever," Harry stated firmly. 

Hermione looked at the floor, seemingly indecisive about something. Momentarily, she straightened up and swallowed. "Fine. I'll be getting Ron and Sirius then?"

Harry looked hard at her. "Can you handle it?"

"I better be able to handle it, because I'm going."

Harry nodded. "You'll be alright." He sounded more confident than he felt.

"Don't get yourself killed, Harry," Hermione said, hugging him breathlessly.

"Likewise, 'Mione. You're my best friend, besides Ron whom you're even with, and I love you. Now I have to get something to eat, the exam starts in—" he looked at his watch "—1 hour and 15 minutes." He started to run off, but Hermione stopped him.

"WAIT!" she yelled. He stopped. "Stand still," she ordered, taking out her wand and pointing it at him. "_Repercutio Nex Necis_," she recited, watching the purple line shoot out and engulf Harry in a bubble of purple light.

"What was that?" he asked as it faded to transparency, bewildered.

"Just hope you don't find out," she whispered.

"There's no time for this—look, whatever you do, _don't_ start until 7:00, alright? Don't go anywhere near Voldemort. He doesn't want you, he wants me, and—"

"Don't worry, Harry," she said, hugging him once more and sprinting away, leaving him free to get some food before his exam, and disregarding her own well-founded advice. _I'll do the worrying for the both of us…_

***

Harry walked calmly into the Defense Against the Dark Arts room, trying to hold up the façade that he was as calm as he seemed. Really, he was about to boil over with worry and fear. _Calm yourself_, he tried to tell himself, but it didn't do much good. He smiled and nodded when Snape gave him a reassuring grin, and tried to go over everything he had ever learned, ever. He had no idea how he was going to pull this one off, and he had a sick feeling that it would be over quickly with lots of green light involved. Shuddering inwardly, he forced himself to look collected, cool, and calm, and also forced himself not to notice as Draco and Michele walked in, arm and arm. 

__

Michele, Michele, Michele, he thought sadly, mentally beating himself for not realizing where Ron and Sirius were as soon as the dreams had started. The dungeons had been "their" place since the Quidditch match he had won against Tower 1. They had stopped going in recent weeks, and now Harry could only assume it was because of Draco. _Why didn't I see it in the beginning?_ he thought anxiously, all the while knowing that it was too late to do anything differently. He would have to work with what he had, however little it amounted to.

"Is everyone ready?" Snape asked, long robes billowing behind him as he began to walk. The answer was a weak and pathetic "yes," and Snape led the way to the fast darkening outdoors.

***

__

7:00, Hermione thought, and tapped the large pentagon brick, just as Harry had said, and muttered "_Dissendium_." It lowered, and she lit her wand and looked down. All she could see was blackness. Taking a deep breath, closing her eyes, and extinguishing her wand, she jumped; she landed on a hard floor a few feet down and fearfully debated what to do next. A minute later, her eyes had adjusted to the light and she was able to see the faint reflection of fire, which in turn created a barely lit picture of the area and revealed the path that she was to follow. Trembling with fright, she crawled to the corner, being wary of any invisible spells lingering in the air, scared to light her wand in case guards would see her. She was right to worry. It wasn't long before she heard two distinct voices.

"The Dark Lord has left the dungeons. He is preparing to face the Potter boy."

"We can expect no resistance then?"

"Hardly any. Master purposefully kept the boy asleep so that he could not owl Dumbledore in time for him to react. It will be all over by the time the old codger even sees an owl on the horizon."

"Potter was convinced to take the exam then?"

"Evidently. He is there now, after all."

"Mmm."

Hermione knew that it was then or never, but she was still shaking and wishing for the presence of Harry and/or Ron. _I was never any good at this_, she thought, trying not to shake. _It was them. Never me…Stop it, Granger, you can do this_. Gathering up every ounce of her courage and praying she was strong enough to whisper the curses and have them work, she focused all of her energy, held her wand as far away from her as she could, aimed at one of the Death Eaters, and whispered, "_Stupefy_!" The spell worked and the targeted one fell; the other shot "_Crucio_!" into the air where Hermione's wand had been. Dodging it, she stunned the other one as well. Neither had screamed or made a noise loud enough to give her presence away. She forced herself to remember a very powerful sleeping spell she had picked up from somewhere and cast it on both of the stunned bodies, along with a memory charm (just in case). They would only wake up if someone knew the counterspell or, at the very least, after three days had passed. She hoped neither would occur while she was down there, and carried on, fearful and shaking, listening, waiting, and anticipating the next set of traps.

Turning down the next corridor, she slowly crept onward. Instantly, her skin felt surprisingly tingly and she stopped dead as the words of Professor Laughlin, her Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher in the 6th year, replayed in her head:

__

If you're ever in a situation where traps are a plausible means of protection and you happen to suddenly feel very, very tingly, stop immediately. You've walked into an invisible wall, and on the other side of it is a definite death trap, either fire or electric current. It doesn't matter; either way, cast the stone spell on yourself and walk through quickly. You will be able to survive the shock or heat when you're made of rock. 

The next phrase repeated in her head as well:

__

But most of you won't have to worry about that, because most of you will step over the 3cm barrier and will be dead. The window of realization is very small.

Hermione silently thanked her late professor as she whispered "_Saxeus_" and walked through, unfazed by the electric current that was running behind her once she stepped beyond it. However, she had no sooner turned back into flesh when she heard voices again; panicking and fighting to control her loud and fearful breathing, she hid behind a giant stalactite and wished she'd had the foresight to bring Harry's invisibility cloak. There were three this time.

"How long has it been since you heard from them?"

"Eleven minutes. They were to check in every ten."

"What if _he's_ here, and…"

"He's not. We were told that he was at the exam. No one's here, they're just idiots and don't know how to read a watch."

Heart pounding so hard that she felt it would burst through her chest, Hermione leaned over the back of the rock and whispered "_Impedimentia_," effectively slowing the guard closest to the rear of the crowd to a near halt while the others continued on, failing to notice. She did the same with one of the others, and when the last one turned around to see where his companions had gone, she stunned him and he fell. She put the same sleeping and memory charms she had put on the others on the three before her and continued onward.

The temperature was rising, and she was beginning to sweat even more than she was before. There was definitely a lot of fire ahead; she could hear it crackling, feel its heat, and see its light flickering at the end of the stone corridor. Despite her dread, she knew she had to continue on. Her progress was painstakingly slow, but she needed to be sure that she didn't run into anymore invisible walls or other horrors; it would be no use hurrying if she was going to die before she reached her goal. Her watch told her it was 8:52; she knew she was almost there…

Finally, she reached the entrance to what looked like the main room. There was fire everywhere; high on the wall near the ceiling hung Sirius and Ron, both unconscious. Common sense told her to gasp, but luckily survival instinct intervened and she stayed silent. There were five Death Eaters guarding the two prisoners, and they were conversing as the others had been.

"Can we kill them yet?"

"Oh, we have 5 more minutes." There was a pause. "Besides, I know how we can pass the time."

"How?"

Hermione felt a bead of sweat trickle down the side of her face.

"There's a poor little mudblood lurking in the mouth of that corridor."

***

"The exam will be conducted as follows: I will summon the beast that you are to deal with. You will deal with it. When the monster ceases attacking you, your test has ended. Is everyone clear?" Everyone nodded silently. "Good. Mind, I don't expect many of you to finish unscathed. Zucci, you're first."

It quickly became very apparent that the exam was hard. Snape summoned a Vysage, a rare monster only consisting of a horrific face, to Zucci; she eventually defeated it, but was left so weak and injured that she could not even walk back to where the class was standing. Snape immediately sent her to the portkey room, where the nurse was on hand to deal with the injuries.

"Bender, you're next."

Harry watched as Michele fought even harder than Zucci had on her monster, a disgusting looking, flying creature known as a Jellyeye, but was taken out by a torrent of fire before she could defeat her opponent.

And so it went; student after student was pushed and pushed to his or her limit, and each met a grisly and painful near end, only to be transported away.

Harry looked at his watch; it was 8:29. His thoughts were with Hermione; he barely noticed as Malfoy was summoned and he was left to stand alone until Draco was defeated by a Bogart who took the shape of his father and began to scream that his son was a failure. Draco ran off out of Harry's field of vision. _Why did he freak out like that? We covered Bogarts ages ago…it's 8:50_, he thought. _Please let Hermione be alright_…

"Potter! Your turn," Snape yelled. _Alright_, Harry thought, feeling adrenaline begin to pump through his veins, _bring it on_.

To Harry's surprise, his monster was nothing they had covered in class that year. It was a dragon, and a rather large one at that. _Go for its eyes_, Harry thought, immediately remembering the Tri-Wizard Tournament. As the dragon howled in pain, he aimed a powerful spell into its mouth, which, in turn, caused the dragon's head to explode. _Lovely_, thought Harry. Surprisingly, he didn't receive any injuries. Now all he had to do was turn around and_—_

"_Avada Ke—_"

"_STUPEFY_!"

Harry instantly turned, and saw Snape as he hit the ground. Silence invaded the dark air. Behind Snape, Harry could make out Draco holding a wand and staring at his handiwork. Harry gave him a look of horrified confusion.

"I don't like you, Potter," Draco sneered, "but I don't want you dead." Harry continued to stare. "He," Draco motioned to Snape, "was under the Imperious curse."

"How did you know?" Harry inquired suspiciously.

"He told me the monster I'd face would be a firebird, it wasn't, and that a bogart wouldn't be included in anyone's exam at all due to the fact that we had covered it in depth during 3rd year at Hogwarts and only mentioned it during the first week of review. It was awhile ago, but I know Snape, and Snape doesn't lie…to me."

Harry nodded but was stopped from answering by a sudden, sharp pain in his scar and a very ominous feeling. He looked at his watch. 8:56. Harry felt goosebumps go up and down his spine, and then he remembered…

__

"Kill the spare…"

"DRACO!" he suddenly yelled, horror filling the pit of his stomach. "CAN YOU APPARATE?"

Draco looked at him oddly before responding, "Um, yes…"

"DO IT NOW! AND TAKE SNAPE!" Harry hollered, becoming desperate. Draco didn't move, and continued his odd look. "I MEAN IT!" Harry was panicking; however, Draco obeyed and was gone. Harry was alone. Monster corpses lay in the grass. A cold wind ruffled his hair, the clouds swirled, and Harry knew it would soon storm.

"I'm here," Harry said sternly with gritted teeth. "Now, Voldemort."

"So, Potter has decided to face me like a man," Voldemort hissed, appearing in front of Harry, who, to his credit, did not start at his sudden presence. Snow began to fall. "Get ready to die, boy. Incidentally," Voldemort added, "The core of this wand has been modified ever so slightly…_Priori Incatatem_ and any variants thereof will not save you this time."

Harry did not answer, but his stare became more and more concentrated as each second ticked by. Time slowed as they squared off. There would be no taunting this time.

"_Cremo_!" Harry called into the night. Voldemort snorted as the spell hit him, and he shook a bit.

"Tickles," he sneered. Harry decided that it was over; he was not going to play this game.

***

They had all come upon her so suddenly that Hermione hadn't had time to react any faster than to stun one. They soon had her wand. 

"Alerting charms come in handy," the leader of the five muttered with glee, raising his wand. "This will be fun…." Hermione saw a flash of sudden surprise take over his eyes and watched as he flicked his gaze away from her for some reason. She didn't stop to wonder, and took it as the chance she had been waiting for; she dove under his robes and through his legs, and grabbed the stunned Death Eater's wand from the ground.

Soon, a large explosion, one big enough to take out all four of the remaining conscious Death Eaters, erupted from her newly acquired wand and landed where they stood; unfortunately, Hermione was too close. She felt herself flying through the air, and then smacking roughly onto the ground. Panting, she looked up and around her.

"It's over," she mumbled, magicking Ron and Sirius from their cuffs, watching them slide to the stone floor, and passing out in the remains of the last Death Eater base.

***

__

Hermione, he thought, _you've never been wrong before, no matter how many times Ron and I bugged you…Please don't make this the time you decide to try something new. _"Enough!" Harry said suddenly, stepping out of stance. "I refuse to play games with you, Voldemort!" He dropped his wand, breathing hard, and took a step toward his foe. "If you want me, take me! NOW!" he ordered, voice a lot more resolute than Harry thought it would be. His heart was beating so fast that he thought it would explode from within his chest_. Was this how my father felt?_ Voldemort smiled, seemingly in slow motion, his sick eyes turning at an even sicker angle; he raised his wand, and Harry could see his lips forming the words that had killed so many innocents, the words that had killed Cedric, the words that had killed Charlie, the words that had killed his parents…

There was a flash of green, and then it was all over.

Friends don't let friends read without reviewing.


	10. Chapter 12

A/N: Well, this is it, the last chapter. I'll try to write something else soon. I would like to thank the following people (in no particular order): Everyone who ever gave me a review (you know who you are, and you're all wonderful…gave me lots of encouragement :), and Lupin (lovely beta reader, as I have said many a time…and I mean it!). 

Disclaimer: it's yours.

****

Chapter 12

Hermione woke with a start and looked around her, relieved. She was in her dorm room and safe, for the time being. 

She had come to a few minutes after she had caused the explosion that put her in her predicament, and ignored the pain and the fact that three of the four Death Eaters that she had blasted were gone. Creating magical stretchers for both Ron and Sirius, she had levitated them both out of the dungeons and into the infirmary. As she was frantically explaining the situation to the nurse, the school's headmaster and several other teachers brought in the unconscious Harry; the force of the spell had knocked him out. Closely behind them was Albus Dumbledore, bearing the lifeless body of one Tom Riddle.

"Professor Dumbledore!" she had cried, ignoring the nurse's attempts to keep her seated and calm, and ran over to him. "The spell worked!"

"I can see that, Ms. Granger," Dumbledore replied, smiling. "Good work; I'm assuming that it was you who completed it, due to the fact that Professor Yang had no idea that it was even near completion, let alone finished."

"Oh, well, I worked overtime…" Hermione blushed. "Will Harry be alright?"

"He will be fine."

Hermione smiled. "Ron and Sirius will be alright according to the nurse, just suffering from some nasty curses…" Hermione paused, then continued, "Professor, I'm sorry for disobeying your orders and going to look for them, but—"

"Thank you, Ms. Granger," Dumbledore interrupted sincerely, eyes twinkling. "Thank you."

At the moment, two weeks after the incident, she was staring up at the ceiling, grateful for the events that had occurred as of late. She ignored Amelia, who was listening to loud and tasteless pop music on a wizard radio charmed to play Muggle music. She thought of getting cross with her, but decided that it wasn't worth it. As she rolled over in bed, she felt a book underneath the covers, and chuckled to herself as she realized that she had fallen asleep while doing some extra reading for Defense Against the Dark Arts. 

__

Poor Snape, she thought gleefully, closing the book and putting it on her nightstand. Professor Snape had been revived in the hospital wing shortly after she herself had come to, and immediately panicked. Luckily, since Draco had attested to his innocence and Snape had volunteered to be questioned under Veritaserum, he was charged with nothing. Ever since, Snape had understandably been avoiding them in the halls. The afternoon before, Harry had told her that Snape had made him stay after class; after all of the other students had left, Snape had apologized. If it had been any other person, Harry had said, he would have told him an apology wasn't necessary; however, Snape had been talking through one of the worst sneers Harry had ever seen adorn his face, and he had left the room as quickly as possible. Hermione laughed as she imagined how difficult it must have been for the man (if she still didn't hate him for his malicious behavior toward her at Hogwarts, she would have felt sorry for him).

A glance at the clock told her that it was 11:00; she got up and went to take a shower. There was a rather pressing conversation that she needed to have with Ron, who was still in the hospital wing; he had been badly cursed, and he would need at least another week to heal completely. She knew that it was time.

She proceeded back to her dorm room 20 minutes later in a robe with a towel wrapped around her hair. Viktor was there when she returned, sitting on her bed and speaking with Amelia. Neither of them looked up when she walked in; it took an "ahem" and an "out" from Hermione to get Viktor out of her room (with the added expense of a "bitch!" from Amelia, who proceeded to storm out as well).

"One more month," Hermione muttered as she put on jeans, a tee shirt, and some robes. Leaving her bathrobe on the floor (she never had any time for a clean room), she walked into the hall and in the direction of the hospital wing. As she walked, she saw that a girl had taped an autographed newspaper clipping about Harry to her door, and her thoughts switched from Ron to Harry for a moment. 

Poor Harry had barely gotten a second of privacy since he had woken up. Between his friends, admirers, the press, and the nonstop parties she wondered how he slept. However, it was all starting to calm down, finally; the world was returning to some semblance of normalcy at least. The hospital wing loomed ahead, and Hermione kept walking.

Ron looked up from the book he was reading as he heard a knock at the door. He had become quite a reader of the past year, especially of Muggle books (even though that meant he had to use _A Wizard's Guide to the World of those Crazy Muggles_ every time he read). At the moment he was deeply engrossed in what he considered a fine novel by Jane Austen.

"Come in," he called, regretfully closing his book just as Hermione walked in the room. She eyed the book and let out a small snort, amused that Ron was so engrossed in the predominately girly book _Pride and Prejudice_. "What?" he asked, annoyed.

"Nothing," Hermione answered as she set next to where he was lying on his bed, not wanting to have that conversation at the moment but making a mental note to tease him later. "How have you been feeling?" 

"Tired. Can't sleep; I dream."

"Oh," Hermione replied, letting the conversation lapse into a short silence.

"Where's Harry?" Ron asked, putting the book aside and pushing himself up to a sitting position.

"He's out somewhere, I think he's practicing Quidditch. The last match of the season's tomorrow, against Tower 4. If we win it, then our team gets the championship."

Ron shrugged. "Figures," he said, a look of disappointment crossing his face. 

Hermione gave him an encouraging look. "There's next year, Ron. The only people graduating are Betty Finn and Veronica Sawyer. You can get two new and equally good beaters."

"Yeah, I guess," he responded, putting his feet on the floor so he was sitting next to his companion. Another silence lapsed between them; the window was open, and birds were chirping outside on the abnormally warm April day. Hermione stared as they flew by the window.

"So," Ron said suddenly, turning toward her, "I suppose you came here to talk about it."

"Yes," Hermione answered, sighing, "_it._"

Ron suddenly became self conscious that he did not have a shirt on, and he turned a tad crimson as he stood up and threw on a tee shirt that was adorned with what he had been told was the name of a 70's Muggle rock band. Hermione watched him do this, unaware of the fact that she had made him uncomfortable.

"Ron, do you honestly think that you love me?" she asked so quietly and meekly that it sounded like a murmur. He looked at her, tall, hair disheveled, face pale from curse-related illness and lack of sleep, with surprise.

"Er, well," he stammered, sitting down next to her again, "Y-yes, I think so. I already know you really well and all of that, and I'm still pining away at you for some ungodly reason, aren't I?" he grinned, silently wishing it was dark so she couldn't see the stupid look that he just knew was plastered on his face.

__

Great, he's trying to make it all a joke, thought Hermione, who was already dreading the effects of what she was about to say.

"Do you love _me_?" Ron suddenly asked rather desperately, an anxious look replacing the forced smile. She didn't answer or look at him; she just stared at her feet. "Hermione?" he questioned, sounding like he knew he was about to be squashed. 

She took a deep breath. "I don't know, Ron," she mumbled, biting her lip. When she looked up, she saw him staring at her, shocked, as if unable to accept what she had just said.

"So you don't," he replied tersely after an uncomfortable pause. "Alright then." He turned away and forced another smile. Hermione didn't answer. "You know those 'movie' things? They should make one about me, called 'Let's all watch Ron make an arse out of himself' or something — "

"I didn't say that I didn't love you, Ron." 

He stopped and swallowed. "Well, can you go? I'd like to feel rejected in peace, if you don't mind." 

"Please hear what I have to say…I don't not love you," she began.

"But you don't love me, so what's the point?" he inquired dryly, in the manner he took on when he was so upset that he couldn't be mean. Hermione knew it well.

"Listen to me, please…I just ended a very, very long relationship," she continued. Ron showed no emotion. "I'm confused about a lot of things right now, and not just dealing with you." She paused, and the birds continued to chirp outside the window. Ron's face hadn't changed; the blank look almost made her cry. "Look, I'm really tempted to give in and say 'I love you too, Ron,' and then we can be in love and elope and move to Argentina and have 7 kids or something—"

"Then say it," he said, turning to her again, eyes pleading.

Hermione turned to face the floor. "It wouldn't be fair, to me or you."

"Well, in that case," he mumbled. "Look, can you please leave?" Hermione had to stop herself from taking his advice; she had already been in one monumental fight with him that month and did not wish to get in another one. She took a breath.

"Rushing into this would be incredibly stupid, Ron."

"Why?" he asked in a dark tone.

"Because we've worked for 7 ½ years just getting to the point where we're as close as we are!" she spurted. He stared into her eyes. "You saved me from a troll, Voldemort, Filch, you were actually nice to me when I was the little 11-year-old snob that I was!" she continued. "I don't want to lose that, and that means I don't want to just use you as a person that helps me get back on my feet after my last boyfriend. It would be a waste."

They stared at each other, and neither said anything.

"Well, can't you just use me for that and then like me afterwards anyway?"

Hermione bit her lip.

"So we're better off 'just friends' then?" Ron replied, unblinking. "Would be like kissing your brother, is that it?"

"I didn't say that."

"It was definitely implied somewhere in there."

She turned away. "I need time to get used to the idea and see if it's what I really want."

He stared down at his large feet. "Let me guess. You want us to carry on just like the night in the pub never happened?"

She shook her head. "It did happen, and we can't change that…" 

"Well, what do you want then? Why are you still here?"

Hermione was silent at this. Something was causing a commotion in the hallway; it sounded as if someone had dropped something. The bustling soon stopped, and the hospital wing was returned to its previous state of mechanical silence. Hermione finally looked up and mumbled,

"I guess I'm asking if you'll wait."

"Wait for what?" he asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Me," she almost whispered, crossing her ankles and fidgeting with her fingers. Ron didn't answer. The birds continued to chirp as he put an arm around her shoulder; she leaned into him, and they stayed like that for a long time.

***

Harry glided above the Canadian landscape, noting how odd it was for it to be so warm, and marveling that snow still remained on the ground from the storm that had attacked a week before and the flurries that had followed. He was a hero again, even more so than before. When he had woken two weeks ago, right after he had defeated Voldemort, he hadn't a clue where he was or that he had even begun to take his Defense Against the Dark Arts test. It turned out that a side effect of Hermione's spell was temporary memory loss, but as it was only temporary his memory returned soon after with a vengeance. Panicking, he had asked if Ron and Sirius were alright but before anyone could answer he was bombarded with questions by the press, due to the fact that possibly every member of said profession had crowded in his open doorway. Through the din, Harry saw Professor Dumbledore (who had been sitting by his bedside) nod, and then he walked over and shut the door, giving Harry much-needed time to sort through everything and come up with an official statement that Dumbledore gave to the vultures on his way out. 

Harry's former headmaster had stayed for a few more days, but had to leave in order to return order to Hogwarts, which was in chaos. The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, the only one who had lasted more than a year in ages, had turned out to be one of Lord Voldemort's biggest supporters and had played a major role in the kidnapping of Ron and Sirius. Harry happily accepted an invitation to visit Hogwarts at the end of the term as Dumbledore's guest so that he could be a guest speaker at Ginny's graduation (he had no idea what he would say, but he knew that Hermione would help him).

Harry had never been so glad to see Sirius and Ron in his life, even though it took Ron a week to wake up and it was several days before both of them returned to any sort of normal state of mind; the torture had had its effects. However, both of them were recovering. Ron was angry that he had to miss the last two Quidditch games, but his newfound interest in Muggle books had kept him busy. Harry was quite glad to have him back. The past two weeks had given Harry time to sleep, and that was about it. He had finally escaped all of the commotion, and was doing something that he desperately needed to do: think. He might be "the boy who lived three times" at school and in the newspapers; he might have just defeated the Dark Lord and saved the lives of thousands, but for some reason, in his mind he was none of these things: in his mind, he was "the boy who's girlfriend dumped him for his worst enemy." Not that he was exactly on bad terms with Draco; in fact, Harry thought they were on the best terms they'd been on in years (they had thanked each other for saving the other's life, and were on a mutual agreement not to speak to one another). However his state of affairs with Draco, the wounds still stung, and Harry felt the ache full force.

What had he done wrong? Should he have treated her any better than he had? Taken her out more? Punched Ron when he'd insulted her? Complimented her more often? Was there just something wrong with him in general? He looked down at the ground, so peaceful below him and so innocent looking. _Harry Potter_, he thought,_ he can defeat Lord Voldemort but loses the girl he loved when he was in the middle of telling her that he loved her_—he stopped and hastily looked back as something tapped the back of his broom. To his surprise he saw Sirius flying behind him on what looked like Ron's Firebolt.

"Hey," Harry said, surprised, as Sirius moved even with him. "Thought you were still in the hospital wing."

"I was, they just let me out. Ron told he he'd heard you were out flying somewhere and he let me use his broom."

"Sure it's legal for an old man like you to be out here flying?"

"You're not an old man until you're 40; I've got 2 years of youth left. Don't take them from me."

Harry chuckled and looked off into the blue sky, observing puffy white clouds scattered about like soft pillow-like landscapes.

"What's wrong?" Sirius asked, following Harry's gaze into the great beyond. Startled, Harry answered, 

"What?" Oh, nothing." They turned and began to fly over trees.

"You're upset about something, don't pretend," Sirius answered. Harry still showed no signs of opening up, so Sirius continued. "Now, what could it be about? Let's see: you just defeated Voldemort and probably saved the world, tomorrow you're most likely going to win your school Quidditch cup and probably have scouts from England begin to try and recruit you, you got a 100 on your Defense Against the Dark Arts final exam—"

"I _did_?! But—"

"Snape posted the grades. You know that you know what's going on when you're under the Imperious curse; just can't do anything about it. Anyway, that, your best friend is alive and recovering, _and_ you're talking to me, which alone usually cures most ailments, and here you are staring off into the distance like someone just trod on your…hey, how are things with that French girl?"

Harry didn't answer, but his eyes told it all.

"Oh…augh, sorry Harry," Sirius said, looking very concerned. "Want to tell me what happened? All joking aside, I won't make fun of you for it, honest…"

Harry turned his head toward him and gave him a skeptical look.

"Alright, maybe I will later when you're over it, but no sooner."

Harry sighed and shook his head, keeping his mouth firmly shut as the wind ruffled through his hair. Sirius was just about to begin begging again when Harry actually spoke.

"I wouldn't blame you for breaking 'em on me, it's a pretty funny story for everyone involved but me," he began. Sirius knew better than to comment on this, and kept his mouth closed during the brief pause Harry took to try and find the appropriate words with which he would tell his godfather his tale of woe. "It was about a month and a half ago when I started thinking something was wrong. Less time together, not much talking, lots of kissing…I know, nothing wrong with that, but it wasn't like it used to be. I liked her more every day, and then you and Ron went and got yourselves kidnapped and since Hermione was always holed up in her 'lab,' Michele was the only person who would comfort me. Yes, I know, I'm a complete pansy, go on, laugh." 

Sirius, to his credit, didn't even let a snigger through. "Anyway," Harry continued, "I told myself that it was love and planned on telling her after the Quidditch match against her tower. We won, and after the match I found her in the hallway and made a big fool of myself, pouring my poor little heart out to her. She finally managed to get some words in edgewise. Of course, those words were 'Arry,'" he mimicked, "'Ah'm seeing someone else!'"

Sirius whistled. "Ouch!" he said painfully, shaking his head. "That was _low_."

"I'm not done yet," Harry almost laughed, though he really wasn't very happy. "I asked her who it was, you know, the 'other man,' and it was…no, I'll let you guess."

"Hmm, can't be Ron, you're still friendly with him."

"Nope, they hate each other. Thank God. Keep guessing."

"Viktor Krum? Hermione told me that they had stopped seeing each other."

"Far worse."

"Not a woman?"

"No, if that happened at least I could understand why."

Sirius shrugged. "I don't know then. Who?"

"Malfoy…Draco freakin' Malfoy."

Sirius about fell off his broom. "You should sell the rights to that story to one of those American soap operas; they'd have a ball with it. Really, Harry, that's horrible. If I were you, and Draco were Snape, who you know was my own personal Draco…well, I don't even know what I would have done, but it would have been bad."

As they flew alongside each other, Harry felt a little better at Sirius' words; at least he knew someone else would have reacted in the same manner.

"Yeah, well Draco just saved my life so I'm going easy on him."

"Understood." Sirius silenced, and they dove over the shimmering blue lake and slowed to the pace of a snail as they floated above the lake's surface. "Harry, the only advice I can give you is to keep busy, perhaps drink a little, and try to remember that there are other fish in the sea, even though you're stuck on that one."

Harry nodded and stared down at the lake; it was a ripply mirror of the sky and him and Sirius, slowly flying side by side over its mysterious waters.

"Eh, it'll take awhile, but I'm sure I'll live," Harry said.

"That's the ticket," Sirius answered, dipping his finger in and causing small, circular expanding waves to form around where his finger had touched the water.

"But right now I'll take to moping, since it's honestly almost all I can think about," Harry continued, imitating Sirius because it looked like fun.

"Don't want to talk about it anymore, I take it?" Sirius shook the water off his hand.

"Not really." Harry kept his fingers in the water and watched the small trail of ripples they created as he flew above on his broom.

"Alright then." Sirius turned toward him. "What else is on your mind?"

"How's Remus?"

"He's good, he went back to work today. Poor man had the full moon right after he recovered from a week of no sleep, so that put him out again. He's in a good mood though; he said he owled you last night, so you should be getting something today or tomorrow."

"Good, I was wondering when I was going to hear from him."

Sirius grinned and nodded, and a small silence eased its way between the two.

"Is it really over?" Harry asked, finally withdrawing his hand from the lake.

"Near as anyone can tell," Sirius replied. The sun cast grateful warmth against Harry's black robes. "Your dad would've loved this…right after we became aurors, he'd brag and brag about how _he_ was going to be the one to bring Voldemort to his knees."

"What was my dad like as an auror?" Harry asked suddenly. "You never talk about when you were aurors together."

"That's because we barely were aurors together, only a year and a half after training. Besides, there wasn't much joking around when it came to battling Voldemort and the Death Eaters…"

"Sounds like a bad heavy metal band," Harry commented, "Voldemort and the Death Eaters."

Sirius chuckled. "We were very serious in the field; it made us decent aurors, but it made for lousy stories."

Harry nodded, and began to zigzag just for fun. "Mum was an unspeakable, right?"

"Right, and I know nothing about what she did, before you ask. Lousy cook though; your dad made all the food."

Harry smiled and watched his reflection in the water do the same.

"They'd laid out the plans for the 'Voldemort's Dead' party on at least 12 different pieces of parchment. Right now, they'd be ecstatic; they would've gotten to celebrate it three times, not to mention that their little Harry was the one who brought it about." Harry laughed a little. Small schools of fish could be seen just below the surface of the reflective lake, which they had taken to circling, still at their very slow speed. Suddenly, Harry looked up anxiously.

"They'd be proud of me, then?"

Sirius' eyes gained their mischievous glimmer once again as they looked into Harry's. "Yeah, I think they just might have been," he answered. 

Content, Harry set his sights on the castle and took off. Sirius was close behind him.

Alright, it's the last chapter. Can you be persuaded to read and review just this once? Please? I'll really appreciate it…:)


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